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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744715">Reservation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster'>SunriseSeaMonster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hotel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atlanta, Attempt at Humor, Depression, Emotional Roller Coaster, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, I love that a tag for the attempt exists, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Racist/Xenophobic Moment, Some light WowKwan on the side, Yes the whole city, a short vomiting scene - sorry, because it's basically its own character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Donghun embarks on a career in the stressful, fast-paced world of luxury hotels.  He soon meets Junhee, an up-and-coming ballad singer.  Will their incredibly different schedules and paths conspire to keep them apart forever?  Maybe it'll all work out, if Donghun's friend can just stop plotting to bed the hotel's handsome valet driver long enough to actually provide some helpful advice, <em>Byeongkwan...</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Byeongkwan/Kim Sehyoon | Wow, Lee Donghun/Park Junhee | Jun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzlikethat">I.</a> for much guidance, encouragement, and beta reading.  </p><p>Clearly, therefore, if you find errors... blame him.  💛</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lee Donghun didn’t get a hotel management certification because it was his only option, thank you very much.  He could have done anything, studied any topic, and excelled.  His grades have always been good, and he has excellent social skills.  <em>Excellent.</em>  </p>
<p>He has mastered many different kinds of smiling, for example.  There’s the “No, I’m not sad, this is just my face; see how cheerful I am?” smile.  He’s also figured out the “Thank you for your time, I’m ever so appreciative,” smile, the “Oh, no, it’s no bother at all!” smile – and his masterpiece: The Showstopper.  The Showstopper highlights his perfectly gleaming, neat, even teeth, thanks to the braces his parents provided for him in lieu of parental affection.  Donghun has learned how to gently, gradually slide open his lips, revealing the smile in such a way that his audience feels that <em>This is IT!  This smile is only for ME!</em></p>
<p>The Showstopper is nearly dangerous in its power.  When he’d left home, still in high school, he’d intended to use The Showstopper simply to wrangle a slightly more affordable rent from the curmudgeonly building owner.  Instead, he’d accidentally ended up dating his landlord for 12 agonizing months, unable to break it off for fear of losing his home.  When his lease expired, he’d changed his phone number and moved out, silently, in the dead of night – with the reluctant and disbelieving help of his friend Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>Donghun still hasn’t decided whether Byeongkwan’s assistance that night was angelic or attributable to Byeongkwan being just as devilish as Donghun.  Not much room in the middle, really, Donghun can admit to himself. </p>
<p>It’s Byeongkwan who roped Donghun into pursuing hotel management.  “You’ll be great at it,” he’d said.  “You’re already experienced at telling people what they want to hear, and I’m pretty sure that’s 90% of the job.  Plus, it pays pretty well for a job without a 4-year degree, so you don’t have to take any more money off your parents to fund higher education.” </p>
<p>It was a persuasive argument. </p>
<p>Donghun enrolled, excelled, and graduated from the certification program.  He’s still not sure what he’s meant to have learned in the course, but papers make employers happy.</p>
<p>And so, on this bright, early morning, he’s sitting next to Byeongkwan in one of the meeting rooms at The Pearl Odette, Seoul. </p>
<p>“Welcome, everyone,” says the speaker at the head of the room.  Her Korean is very good, if accented.  “Welcome to The Pearl Odette family!  My name is Marina Janssen and I am the Regional Human Resources Director. On behalf of the entire Pearl Odette executive office, I would like to congratulate you on this step in your professional journey.  The Pearl Odette collection of hotels and resorts is the finest in the world, and you all are here because you are the newest pearls in our staff.” </p>
<p>Everyone applauds, and Donghun joins in.  Why not?  Byeongkwan grins at him, and Donghun knows what he’s thinking.  <em>Pearls?</em>  Donghun and Byeongkwan are pearls?  But whatever; by the looks of the buffet table on the side of the room, they’re getting served free lunch later.  Donghun is happy to clap for that alone.</p>
<p>For the next several hours, Donghun and Byeongkwan pay most of their attention to the human resources information being dispensed by Ms. Janssen and the other speakers, only occasionally cutting amused glances at each other. </p>
<p>The promised lunch break arrives: steaming metal chafers filled with food inspired by cuisines from across the globe.  In front of each dish is a tag with the name of the food, as well as the name of the hotel located in the city of the food’s origin. Also on the tag is the logo of The Pearl Odette: a silver swan with a pearl above its wings. </p>
<p>“This is the fanciest shit I’ve ever seen,” mutters Donghun to Byeongkwan, only to realize in horror that it’s not Byeongkwan to his side but a total stranger.  “You’re not wrong,” says the stranger, handsome eyes twinkling at Donghun’s horrified expression, “and I think your friend is at the drink station over there.” </p>
<p>Damn it all to hell.  Where’s the smile for cursing on your first day at the job, in front of a total stranger? </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Donghun manages to say.  “Lee Donghun, front desk agent.” He extends his hand, and the other man does the same. </p>
<p>“Kim Sehyoon, valet.” </p>
<p>“Valet?” Byeongkwan has returned from the drink station.  He sets down his cup and extends his own hand.  “Kim Byeongkwan.  Concierge.  And I love cars.”</p>
<p><em>Cars?  Byeongkwan and… cars?!</em>  Donghun tries to control his expression, for the sake of his friend.</p>
<p>“Oh?” Sehyoon’s eyes light up. </p>
<p>“Well,” Byeongkwan all but flutters his eyelashes.  “Riding in them.” </p>
<p>Donghun smirks into his own coffee and decides to leave his friend to it.  He finishes his whole plate of food before Byeongkwan joins him back at their table. </p>
<p>“He’s hot,” says the newly minted concierge. </p>
<p>“No shit,” says Donghun.  “Not my type, though.  And don’t date coworkers; it never ends well.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan lifts his most innocent doe eyes at Donghun.  “Who said anything about dating?  Besides, we’re in different departments.  Hyung, he’s actually in art school, and this is only his part-time job.  Do you think he’d… paint me like one of his French girls?” </p>
<p>Donghun groans; he can’t even bring himself to respond.  Besides, Ms. Janssen is speaking again, explaining the hotel’s phone policy.  </p>
<p>As the post-lunch sleepiness threatens to overtake him, Donghun keeps himself awake with one, overriding thought: he must succeed.  He must.  To pay his rent, to live up to Byeongkwan’s expectations, to not be the loser his parents always implied he’d be.  He must, and he will. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He does. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lee Donghun quickly becomes a front desk favorite, the department’s go-to guy for checking in celebrity and high-maintenance guests. <em> Something about that Donghun kid’s smile,</em> he overhears one manager tell another.  <em>Very welcoming.</em></p>
<p>He learns quickly that famous guests tend to be easier to deal with than extremely wealthy, non-famous guests, because celebrities have an interest in maintaining their fragile reputations in the public eye. Besides, they’re willing to pay for all their crazy demands.  They want all of the minibar contents replaced with some rare brand of artisanal tonic water?  Sure!  They want 100 rose-scented Diptyque candles in the room, at over ₩80,000 each?  Why not?  More commission for Byeongkwan!  The hotel has a firm policy of accommodating any legal and safe request, as long as the guest is willing to pay for it.  Donghun thinks it’s great.  The Pearl Odette is merely taking capitalism to its logical conclusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although he’s primarily a front desk agent, Donghun occasionally helps out other staff, eager to learn the workings of the entire hotel – each department a cog in a highly complex machine, operating behind the scenes to ensure each guest has the most luxurious stay possible.  Every time he takes the service elevator from one of the staff-only sub-basements all the way to the soaring heights of the most expensive, VIP hotel suites, he feels the thrill of secret knowledge.  Not everyone gets to see all sides of the human experience at The Pearl Odette, from the cozy uniform tailoring room to the debaucherous balcony parties of the rich and famous. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tonight, Room Service is understaffed.  It’s the Chuseok holiday season, and many Pearl Odette employees are home with their families.  Donghun’s manager had asked whether he wanted time off to see his parents, too. </p>
<p>Yeah, fucking right.</p>
<p>The slight check-in rush has died down, and the other front desk agent can handle the front lobby by herself, so Donghun is now helping run dinner up to the guest floors. </p>
<p>He taps his RFID card against the scanner and enters the service kitchen.  Perfect timing: a dinner order is ready on the cart.  “Where’s it going, Miyoung-ssi?” he asks his colleague.  She checks the paper. “Room 94.  Park Junhee.  He’s a singer.” </p>
<p>The name rings a faint bell only from Donghun’s perusal through the arrivals document for the day – he doesn’t really keep up with popular music.</p>
<p>He starts wheeling the cart to the service elevator, but Miyoung’s voice cuts him off.  “Donghun-ssi,” she says, hesitating.  He waits.  “He… he sounded like he was crying, I think?  Just a heads up.” </p>
<p>Huh.  Gross.  </p>
<p>Donghun thanks Miyoung and takes the elevator up to the 9th floor. As he wheels the dinner cart down the hallway, he hears it – crying.  It must be loud crying, for the noise to travel, since the doors and walls are well-insulated, and the carpets are plush. </p>
<p>He hesitates in front of the door to room 94.  The “Do Not Disturb” indicator isn’t on; the tiny LED indicator next to the doorbell is green.  No excuse not to enter, unfortunately. </p>
<p>Donghun rings the doorbell, and almost immediately, the sound of crying stops, in a jerky sort of way.  A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing the most good-looking young man Donghun has ever seen, within or without the confines of The Pearl Odette.  He’s momentarily speechless, all hotel decorum completely annihilated in the handsome, tear-stained, vulnerable face of this young man. </p>
<p>“Is that my dinner?” The man’s voice quavers, but he’s obviously trying to contain himself. </p>
<p>“So sorry, sir,” answers Donghun.  “I had something caught in my throat.” </p>
<p><em>Astonishment.</em>  Astonishment was caught in Donghun’s throat.</p>
<p>He wheels the cart inside.  “Where would you like me to leave this, sir?”</p>
<p>The man – Park Junhee, was it? – sighs and looks around the room.  Even this act seems to bring the glistening of tears back to his eyes. “Anywhere’s fine,” he says. </p>
<p>Donghun sets the dinner cart next to the desk.  The room isn’t a suite, so there’s no proper dining table, but the desk is expansive.  He begins unloading the plates and accessories; chopsticks, glasses, and more different kinds of silverware than he’d known existed, when he was a child. </p>
<p>“That’s an awful lot of stuff, isn’t it?” Park Junhee’s voice cracks a bit, as he tries to laugh. </p>
<p>“The Pearl Odette wants to ensure you have everything you require for your dinner, sir,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>The hotel guest sinks suddenly down onto the loveseat across from the desk and buries his face in his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this,” he whispers, through a renewed fountain of tears. </p>
<p>Donghun hates crying.  He really, <em>really</em> hates crying.  Many years previously, a would-be school bully had asked him, “Why do you hang around that little Byeongkwan twerp?  Are you some sort of sissy, too?  I think we should see whether you’re a sissy too – punch a little curve into that nose.” </p>
<p>Donghun had responded with, “He’s the only one here I can count on to make others shed tears instead of ever releasing any of his own.”  And then Byeongkwan, who’d crept silently up behind the kid, had whacked the bully in the kneecap with a stick… before showering his face with a fountain of pink glitter from some stash in his backpack, because of <em>course</em> Byeongkwan carried emergency pink glitter.  Donghun had known then he could and would forever count on the so-called sissy for support.  Support without tears.</p>
<p>And yet… something about this attractive – no, <em>stunning</em> – young man crying into his hands makes Donghun’s stomach twist in somersaults of sympathy and concern, not revulsion. </p>
<p>He hesitates, then crouches down to be at better eye level with the guest.  “It’s going to be okay, sir,” he says. </p>
<p>“But you don’t even know what the issue is,” sniffles the man. </p>
<p>“That’s fair.  You want to talk about it?” asks Donghun, repressing his inner shock and horror at asking such a question. </p>
<p>“Well, it’s Chuseok.” <em>Sniffle.</em> “Aw, hell, in for a penny, in for a pound – you don’t tell people what your guests do or say, right?  Hotel guest confidentiality?” </p>
<p>“We would never gossip about our guests,” lies Donghun. </p>
<p>“I came out as bi to my parents, and they told me not to bother coming home for Chuseok, and I just… I know it could have been so much worse, but it still hurts.”  The last part of his sentence is a whisper, barely above a silent breath. </p>
<p>Donghun is dumbfounded.  The guest is accidentally safe in trusting Donghun; he would never out another man.  His own parents had been just as uninterested in his sexuality when he’d told them he was gay as they had been about every other facet of their son’s personality or life goals. </p>
<p>Donghun clears his throat.  “Couldn’t you… Not that I am not happy you’ve chosen The Pearl Odette… but couldn’t you have just stayed where you normally live?  It seems like being here all alone must be even more lonely.”</p>
<p>“It is!” The man looks up, meeting Donghun’s eyes.  “You are so right.  It is more lonely here.  But I… I live in a dorm, I… I have an agency.” </p>
<p>Ah, yes.  Miyoung had said he was a singer. “Mmm?” Donghun gently encourages him to continue. </p>
<p>“So…” Junhee sighs, “I didn’t want to stay in the agency dorm and have to tell them why I’m not going home.” </p>
<p>“Makes sense,” concedes Donghun.  “Look… I don’t normally say this, but… if you need anything, I’ll be working a lot the next few days.  If you just want to talk, or whatever, it’s actually pretty quiet in this hotel around the holidays.” <em>People are all staying with their families,</em> he doesn’t add. </p>
<p>“I appreciate that,” says Junhee.  “I might call down or something.  Thank you for being such a good listener.” </p>
<p>Bloody hell.  Donghun hadn’t even needed to employ any of his smiles.  <em>Take that, naysayers!</em>  Social skills? Donghun has them.</p>
<p>He checks to make sure everything’s fine with dinner before turning back around to Junhee.  “So if you need me, just hit 0 on your phone – or if it’s quiet enough, you can even just hang out in the lobby and do some people-watching.  Some famous people pass by here, you know.” </p>
<p>He winces right after saying this – maybe Park Junhee will be offended that Donghun doesn’t consider him famous.  But he laughs, a laugh surprisingly clear and unquavering.  “Maybe I will.  What was your name?”</p>
<p>“Lee Donghun, sir.” </p>
<p>“You don’t have to ‘sir’ me, Donghun-ssi.  I’m Park Junhee.  And… thank you.” </p>
<p>Donghun nods, says his goodbye, and exits the room, leaning back against the walls of the corridor when the door is safely closed behind him, not caring if the security staff can see him on the cameras. </p>
<p>He takes a few deep breaths and heads back down to the staff levels of the hotel.  “Was he okay?” asks Miyoung, expression clearly divided between concern for Donghun and sizing up the next order on her docket.  </p>
<p>“Everything’s fine,” says Donghun.  “But if you’re good here, I’ll head back to the desk, okay?” </p>
<p>She nods, already absorbed in the next dinner order.  “Thank you, Donghun-ssi.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walks to the front desk a little more thoughtfully, a little more slowly than his usual breakneck run around the back corridors.  He’s not sure how he’s going to explain this to Byeongkwan, who’s spending his evening calling around local businesses, trying to confirm a list of which ones are still open through the holidays. </p>
<p>He gets back to the desk just as Byeongkwan hangs up the phone.  “Great,” laughs the concierge.  “At least the massage parlors are open.  That’s good to know; not like any guest staying in a hotel over Chuseok is going to be the sentimental type.  I’ll bet every person in this building right now just wants a good hand job and a nap.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  He also decides not to tell Byeongkwan about his experience in room 94.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn’t have to wait long to see Park Junhee again.  </p>
<p>The next night, he’s covering an overnight shift, 11pm to 7am.  It’s brutal on most, but Donghun’s always been adaptable.  </p>
<p>The overnight manager isn’t in the lobby much tonight, choosing instead to use the quiet time to catch up on paperwork at her desk in the back office.  Donghun’s been mostly alone amongst the echoes of the marble floor and tall ceiling, occasionally checking in on the overnight valet or chatting with Taehoon, the agent in charge of security rounds tonight. </p>
<p>At around 2:00 o’clock in the morning, the soft ding of the elevators around the corner alerts Donghun to a guest descending from the hotel floors, and Junhee’s slim frame wanders uncertainly to the front desk. </p>
<p>Donghun most certainly has not been doing extensive internet research about the singer – the hot, rising new star Park Junhee, master of ballads – and most certainly does not quickly close his browser window on the hotel computer.</p>
<p>“Hello,” says Junhee, fingers smoothing down the curled ends of his worn sweater.  His face doesn’t look like he’s been crying anymore, his hair is tousled and boyish, and by some dark magic, he looks even more attractive than he had the night before.  “I don’t exactly need anything.  I just…” He glances away from Donghun, hesitating.  “You said it’d be okay to maybe hang out a bit.”</p>
<p>“Good evening!” Donghun suddenly feels awkward about his offer.  “I wish I had a more welcoming space here for you… something a little more comfortable.”  The check-in area of the lobby has been designed to impress, as well as facilitate the efficient movement of people and luggage, not casual loitering.  There’s one chaise lounge next to Donghun’s desk, but it’s more decorative than cozy. </p>
<p>“That’s okay,” says Junhee.  “I’ve been sitting and lying down for days; it’s good to stretch my legs.  You must be on your feet a lot, right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah.  I’ve gotten used to it.” </p>
<p>“You won’t get into any trouble if I just stand around here and chat, will you?” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs, before he can catch himself.  “If I could stop some of the people who just stand around here and talk at me while I have work to do, that would be amazing.  But no, I have to nod politely and pretend to care about their nanny problems and private airplane delays and all the rest of it.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s face blanches.  “Oh, I…” </p>
<p>Donghun feels all the blood drain from his face.  “Not you!  I didn’t mean you!  Wow, I don’t know how I keep messing this up.” </p>
<p>He and Junhee look at each other for a second before they both break eye contact, casting tentative smiles across the marble floor.</p>
<p>“How’s this?” asks Junhee.  “I’ll pretend I never awkwardly came out to you, a total stranger, and you pretend you never saw me crying.  I’ll be one of your boring guests complaining about my nanny problems, and your job will be to pretend you care.” </p>
<p>“Perfect,” agrees Donghun. </p>
<p>“So my first nanny,” says Junhee, face mock-serious, “eloped with my husband.” </p>
<p>“I hate it when that happens.” Donghun shakes his head in sympathy.</p>
<p>“Right, it was pretty terrible.  They’d been having an affair the whole time, and now I’m left with our 11 children to take care of all on my own.” </p>
<p>“Only 11?” </p>
<p>“Well, I’m still young,” explains Junhee. “Give us time!”</p>
<p>Donghun bursts out laughing – a real laugh, not any of his rehearsed smiles. It echoes loudly in the room.</p>
<p>The door from the back office to the front lobby clicks open, and the overnight manager steps to the desk, looking at both young men. “Good evening.  Everything alright?” she asks, in her calm, beautiful, professional voice. </p>
<p>“Yes, Manager,” answers Donghun. </p>
<p>“I’m just having too much fun interrupting your front desk agent in his work,” says Junhee. </p>
<p>Donghun feels his cheeks flush instantly, but his manager chuckles.  “We like him, too.  Donghun-ssi, I’m going to go on break, but call if you need anything – and Taehoon is around, of course.” </p>
<p>“Thank you, Manager.” Donghun nods.</p>
<p>After the door clicks softly shut behind her, Donghun turns to Junhee.  “How do you do that?” he asks. </p>
<p>“Do what?” </p>
<p>“Well, I think I’m pretty smooth – that’s how I got this job – but just… my manager is kind, but she’s also sort of a hard-ass, if you’ll forgive the expression.  You just won her right over to you.” </p>
<p>Junhee shrugs, an infectious smile spreading across his face.  “I guess I’ve learned at some point that honesty mostly works out, for me.  Even – or especially – unexpected honesty.” </p>
<p>What was it Donghun had read about Junhee, just before the man himself appeared in the lobby? <em>An honesty to his singing – a vulnerability no man could fake – which draws us into his music.</em>  Ah.  Right. </p>
<p>Donghun sighs softly.  “Sometimes I wonder – and I will absolutely deny having said this if you bring it up later – but I wonder whether I picked this job because I get to put on a mask every day.  Like, everybody has a public-facing self, but when you work in a place like this, you really, really have to be an actor.  It’s not enough to be nice; nice doesn’t keep people from throwing their credit cards at you or screaming about their pillows down the telephone line.” </p>
<p>Junhee folds his arms onto the desk, puts his chin on his hands, and nods. God, he’s easy to talk to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Donghun realizes it, they’ve talked long enough that night has become early morning, and his first check-out appears, sleepily dragging a rolling suitcase to the desk.  Junhee has discreetly moved aside, perching awkwardly on the chaise lounge. </p>
<p>“Have a good morning, and a safe flight!” wishes Donghun, and the traveler waves a groggy acknowledgement before heading out the front door. </p>
<p>“Fuck, it is morning, isn’t it?” Junhee yawns, his body apparently catching up to the clock. </p>
<p>Donghun cringes a bit.  “I’m so sorry to have kept you, Junhee-ssi.” </p>
<p>“It’s fine.  It’s great.” Junhee looks sleepy, but sincere.  “I couldn’t have asked to spend my night in a better fashion.  Thank you, Donghun-ssi.  I better go get a nap before I have to check out, myself.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Donghun hands over the shift to the morning agent at 7am, for the first time ever, he wishes he were staying a bit longer – so that he could be the one to check out room 94.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It comes as a surprise to no one at The Pearl Odette when Lee Donghun is promoted to Front Desk Supervisor.  It’s not a position of extraordinary power; his direct reports usually only include other front desk agents, not the concierge or bell staff.  Still, the new title means that on occasion, usually in the late evenings or during other quiet times, Donghun is the manager on duty for the entire property. </p>
<p>What is surprising to Donghun is that he’s actually enjoying his job.  Immensely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s up with you, hyung?” Byeongkwan asks him in the cafeteria, one day.  “You’re grinning into the hot sauce bottle.  Don’t get weird on me.”</p>
<p>“I got to push the button,” Donghun says. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan gapes.  “How did I not hear about this? Are you okay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Donghun.  “But it was kinda fun to see four security people rush the lobby and the look on the face of the guy who threatened me, as they kicked him out of the hotel.  A+. Would repeat.  Do recommend.  Put <em>that</em> in your TripAdvisor review.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Really, business as usual at The Pearl Odette means expecting the unusual.  And Donghun is here for all of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun’s best friend seems to have more mixed feelings about life in the Pearl Odette family.  Sehyoon insists he’s happy with his girlfriend, and not even Byeongkwan is shameless enough to try to steal a man in a stable relationship.  Neither, however, will he stop whining about his crush on the valet driver to Donghun, who has changed his friend’s ringtone to the cheesiest, saddest possible ballad, just to piss him off.  </p>
<p>Despite its cheesiness, it’s a pretty song – a Park Junhee ballad, “First Love.”  Donghun occasionally listens to it alone, wondering what it would be like to feel deeply enough about another person to sing like that.</p>
<p>More than a year has passed since Park Junhee cried with him – to him? – about his family’s reluctance to have their son home for Chuseok.  Donghun has assisted countless VIP guests and hotshots from all over the world, with their diverse litany of requests and complaints.  </p>
<p>But he can’t quite forget the singer, occasionally tuning into music programs he swore were for lame-ass fans without hobbies, spellbound as Junhee’s voice captivates the audience. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he can blink, the seasons are changing yet again, and Christmas spirit fills the city.  The Pearl Odette displays a magnificent tree in the lobby, decorated with the hotel’s trademark silver swans and pearls. </p>
<p>The hotel managers even purchase a stockpile of hand-poured candles, which perfume the lobby with the subtle scent of wintry fir trees, sparkling in snow.</p>
<p>Donghun takes a deep breath at the desk.  He feels his shoulders relax.  Christmas is only a few days away, and the hotel is calm and quiet. For a manager-on-duty shift, he couldn’t ask for a better one.</p>
<p>The side door to the valet office opens, and Sehyoon walks quickly to the front desk.  His pupils have constricted to pinpricks, and his eyebrows are sky-high. </p>
<p>“Donghun-hyung,” he says, voice low despite the absence of guests in the lobby.  “We have a problem.”</p>
<p>“What kind of a problem?”  It takes a lot to faze Donghun at this point.  The drunken, naked Australian clinging to the staircase banister the other week had felt nearly routine.</p>
<p>“You know the new kid, Beomsoo?” </p>
<p>“Yeah…?” </p>
<p>“He drove a guest’s Lambo into a support column in the garage.  Hard.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, please repeat that,” says Donghun.  “It sounded almost as though you were telling me one of our valet drivers wrecked a guest’s Lamborghini here on hotel property.”</p>
<p>Sehyoon just nods. </p>
<p>Donghun lets out his breath in a sharp exhalation. “Are you <em>shitting</em> me right now?!  It’s Christmas!  How bad is the damage?  Is it drivable?”</p>
<p>Sehyoon grimaces and shakes his head.  “It’s pretty bad.  I don’t think it’s totaled, though.”</p>
<p>“You don’t <em>think</em> that it’s totaled?!  Oh. My. God.”</p>
<p>Sehyoon just looks miserable.</p>
<p>Donghun looks at the ceiling and breathes, suddenly finding the candle-scented air a little overly fragranced and cloying.  </p>
<p>“Okay,” he tells Sehyoon.  “Guest info.”  Sehyoon hands him the slip of paper with the guest’s room number.  </p>
<p>Donghun plugs the number into his computer and groans when he sees the name associated with that room.  Kang Hojin, business magnate and all-around, certified asshole extraordinaire.  Donghun suspects he’s been keeping the Lamborghini at the hotel to hide it from his soon-to-be ex-wife’s lawyers, so it can’t be used against him in determining fair alimony payments.  Kang Hojin doesn’t even stay at the hotel; he just pays for a room every night, for months now, in order to stow the car in its underground valet garage. </p>
<p>Donghun calls the man’s contact number and advises his secretary of the incident.  She sounds remarkably calm about the situation – maybe she herself has worked in hotels? – and lets Donghun know that she or her boss will call back. </p>
<p>Nobody calls back. </p>
<p>Instead, less than half an hour later, Kang Hojin, the magnate himself, owner of one probably-not-but-maybe-totaled Lamborghini, <em>runs</em> into the lobby of The Pearl Odette – and Donghun’s life flashes before his eyes.  The words coming out of the man’s mouth are so novel he’s not even sure Byeongkwan could parse all the curses.</p>
<p>He nearly pushes the emergency button, then realizes – what’s he going to tell security? To evict this man for caring about his ₩4million vehicle, which a Pearl Odette valet driver bounced not-so-gently off a concrete parking garage? </p>
<p>Instead, Donghun activates every spare neuron of kindness, understanding, patience, and deeply apologetic subservience. </p>
<p>In other words, he tunes everything out completely.  If he’s dissociating slightly in the face of this man’s screaming, surely that’s not a problem.  It’s healthy.  It’s fine.  It’s <em>fine.</em> </p>
<p>Kang Hojin’s tirade passes through him, and Donghun vaguely hears an echo of his own voice, assuring the man that The Pearl Odette is insured properly, and the legal team will be in touch first thing on Monday. </p>
<p>The business magnate finally runs out of steam, grabbing the stapled bundle of contact information and valet insurance details from Donghun’s hands with such force that the paper tears slightly in the middle. </p>
<p>He leaves the way he came in, through the front door, still punctuating every footfall with an expletive. </p>
<p>Donghun watches him go and then takes a small inventory of his own state of mind.  </p>
<p>What he concludes is: he is hallucinating. </p>
<p>And the reason he knows himself to be hallucinating is simple: there, next to the grand Christmas tree, surrounded by an elegantly twinkling array of silver swans and pearls, stands Park Junhee, mouth gaping wide open. </p>
<p>Donghun shakes his head, trying to clear the hallucination, but instead of disappearing, Park Junhee approaches the desk. </p>
<p>Park Junhee, in gray, cuffed trousers with a subtle check pattern.  Park Junhee, in a crisp black shirt with the top two buttons undone.  Park Junhee, looking, against every possible human understanding, even more perfect than he had a year and a few months ago. </p>
<p>“Donghun-ssi,” the Junhee-hallucination says, shaking his head in amazement. </p>
<p>Park Junhee, remembering Donghun’s name. </p>
<p>“Hi,” says Donghun, like an idiot, an absolute idiot who can’t even use honorifics properly and is already going to get fired if Kang Hojin has anything to say about it – but is now about to get doubly fired.</p>
<p>But Junhee looks delighted, if startled.  “I’m here for a Christmas party in the ballroom, and I was looking for the bathroom, and just… I heard some crazy screaming, and… wow, Donghun, wow.” </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, I…” Donghun doesn’t know how to apologize for the drop in formality, now that Junhee has also dropped the honorific in addressing him back. </p>
<p>Junhee misinterprets the apology and hesitation.  “Oh, sorry.”  He winces.  “You probably don’t even remember me.  Park Junhee, I…” </p>
<p>Fuck it.  If he’s going to get fired anyway… “I remember,” Donghun interrupts.  “I remember you, and I’m glad you’re doing well.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s face takes on the slightest color, and he says, “I have to admit that when I heard they were holding their Christmas party here, I was maybe hoping to run into you.  I didn’t know if you’d even still be working here, and if you were, whether you’d be working tonight or whatever, and maybe that’s creepy, and I’m so sorry, I’ve had just a little bit to drink, and I…” He waves his hand, rather than finishing the sentence, as if the words might be grasped from the candle-scented lobby air. </p>
<p>Donghun has evidently used up all his brain-mouth filters dealing with Kang Hojin.  “You’re cute,” he says, then laughs – a slightly unhinged, hysterical laugh.  Junhee seems a little astonished and doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>Donghun presses the backs of his hands against the cooling granite of the check-in desk, still chuckling.  “You’re really something, Park Junhee,” he finally says.  “I’m glad you came to say hi.  If I have to get fired, this is the way I want to go.” </p>
<p>“But why would you get fired?” asks Junhee. </p>
<p>Donghun stops laughing.  “Because we wrecked someone’s fabulously expensive sports car, and I couldn’t calm the man down?  Because I just called one of our guests cute?” </p>
<p>The color deepens across Junhee’s face.  “Well, I thought you did an amazing job handling that guy.  The abuse he was slinging at you was totally unreasonable, and you held your ground – but you did so professionally.  They’ll probably give you a raise. And…” he takes a deep breath.  “You’re pretty cute yourself.  I kind of want to ask you out.” </p>
<p>“You what?!”  Donghun is dismayed that Byeongkwan isn’t on duty tonight, because he could really stand some external confirmation that he is not, in fact, hallucinating. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to say yes. I don’t even… I don’t even know if you like guys…” </p>
<p>“I like guys,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>Junhee looks at him, and they stare at each other for a moment.</p>
<p>Donghun sighs and allows himself a small smile.  “Okay.”  He shrugs.  “I’m not entirely convinced this is all real, anyway, so either I get a date with you, or I wake up and the real Park Junhee is none the wiser.” </p>
<p>Junhee giggles, and the purity of his smile melts something inside Donghun. “Okay, look, we’re going to have to exchange phone numbers.” He pauses and extends a hand over the desk, and it takes Donghun a moment to interpret the gesture. </p>
<p>“Don’t have it with me,” says Donghun, truthfully. </p>
<p>“You… you don’t have your phone with you?” asks Junhee. </p>
<p>“I know, welcome to my world.  Personal phones aren’t allowed on the lobby floor.  Some people try to sneak glances at theirs occasionally, but they don’t last long.  You need every ounce of focus to get through this job.”  Donghun feels like he’s babbling. “Anyway, uh, yeah.  But I can give you my number, if you’re serious.” </p>
<p>Junhee does look sincere.  He reaches in the back pocket of his finely tailored trousers and fishes out his phone. He unlocks the phone and hands it to Donghun, who taps in his number before giving the phone back.  Junhee looks at the screen thoughtfully for a second, grins, then taps in a few words and puts his phone back in his pocket. </p>
<p>“What’d you save my name as?” asks Donghun, sensing a note of mischief in the air. </p>
<p>“My phone, my business,” says Junhee. </p>
<p>“Hey, whatever happened to radical truth-telling or whatever?” demands Donghun. </p>
<p>Junhee laughs.  “I can’t believe you remember that!  I still believe in it.  I’m not lying, am I?” </p>
<p>Fine.  Donghun smiles. “Don’t you need to get back to your party?” </p>
<p>Junhee grimaces.  “I guess so.  This has been way more fun, though.  I’ll text you, okay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, okay.” Donghun suddenly feels a bit stiff again.  “Bye, Junhee-ssi.” </p>
<p>Junhee cocks one eyebrow slightly and smiles.  “Talk to you soon, Donghun.”  He starts walking back in the direction of the ballroom, and Donghun suddenly realizes he forgot something important. </p>
<p>“If you still need the bathroom,” he shouts loudly, “It’s up ahead on your left!  Don’t get lost this time!” </p>
<p>A hotel guest, freshly descended from the elevator and hearing him yell, gives Donghun a confused and disapproving look. She keeps her eyes suspiciously on him until she’s out of view, out the front door. </p>
<p>Well, whatever.  He can’t get <em>triply</em> fired, can he? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byeongkwan doesn’t believe him.  Which is, of course, reasonable.  Donghun only half-believes it all himself, so he can’t judge his friend too harshly.  </p>
<p>For one thing, telling his friend the story means telling him all about the Chuseok happenings from last year, too.  Donghun leaves some parts of that out, because they feel too private – but he does tell Byeongkwan that the increasingly famous, undeniably dreamy singer Park Junhee hung out with him in the lobby overnight once. </p>
<p>And now, over a year later, asked for his number.  </p>
<p>The concierge pokes at his bindaetteok.  “Hyung, I know it was a rough night, and I can’t believe that new kid wrecked some guy’s Lamborghini.  But…” he shakes his head. </p>
<p>“I know!” Donghun says.  “If I’d been thinking about it, I would have just asked him to jot his number down on a piece of scrap paper or something.  Just so I could prove to myself that the conversation was real.”  He takes another bite of his own dinner.</p>
<p>“Umm, remember what happened the last time you wrote something important on a piece of scrap paper?” </p>
<p>Donghun groans.  “Yeah.”  He’d been juggling an Oscar-winning actor’s various room bills, trying to allocate the charges to four separate credit cards, some of which belonged to the studio paying for the actor’s expenses.  The hotel’s accounting software was so complicated that the actor had finally just handed his personal card over the counter to Donghun, who scribbled the number down by hand and sorted it all out manually.  He’d forgotten to shred the scrap paper, and days later, a colleague saw the credit card number – with the actor’s full name written in clear block letters across the top.  Whoops.  Fortunately, she was kind enough to shred the information immediately and scold him in private. </p>
<p>Just as Donghun is trying to decide how to explain that he’s not sure himself whether anything past Kang Hojin’s screaming actually happened to him, his phone buzzes with a text alert. </p>
<p><strong>unknown number</strong><br/><em>Hi!  I hope this is Donghun’s phone.  If he gave me a fake number, sorry to bug you!</em> </p>
<p>Donghun stares at his phone, chewing a mouthful of bindaetteok.  Surely, it’s not…? </p>
<p><strong>unknown number</strong><br/><em>Anyway, if this is Donghun, hi! This is Junhee, you know, from the hotel</em> </p>
<p>Donghun just looks at his phone, speechless, mind chased clean away from thoughts of the bindaetteok on his plate.</p>
<p>
  <strong>unknown number</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Would you maybe have any free time this weekend?  How’s Friday?</em>
</p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t say a word.  He turns his phone around in his hands and passes it silently to Byeongkwan, who immediately starts choking on his food. </p>
<p>He finally recovers enough to pass the phone back and say, “Holy shit, hyung. Park Junhee asked you out.” </p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I see that.” </p>
<p>“So answer him already, you fool!!” Byeongkwan’s energy has risen to an 11 out of 10. </p>
<p>“Christ, simmer down, Kwannie.” </p>
<p>Donghun steadies himself. He goes to save the contact number, then taps out a response. </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Friday sounds great.  What did you have in mind?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Well, since that’s the day after Christmas, I guess a lot of places might still be closed.  Would you want to just wander around the city a bit, poking around?</em>
</p>
<p>Donghun starts to write out a response, but Junhee beats him to it. </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Wait, I’m being so rude.  You’re on your feet all day, the last thing you want is a city-walking marathon.  Do you want to just catch a movie or something?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>A movie sounds perfect!</em> </p>
<p>“What’s he saying?!” whines Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>“I’m trying to concentrate, here!  Can’t you shut up and stalk Sehyoon’s latest Instagram pictures for a second or something?” </p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong> is typing…</em>
</p>
<p>“Eat a dick,” mutters the concierge. But he hushes up. </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>It looks like it’s a busy weekend for movie tickets, pretty much anything good is sold out.  I guess I should have thought this all through properly before texting you, sorry</em> </p>
<p>Donghun deliberates, presses his lips together, and finally hits SEND. </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Do you want to just come over to my place, and we’ll watch something there?</em> </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>Sure!  We can order food in, right?  8pm?</em> </p>
<p>Donghun is barely breathing.  He feels the laser-like force of Byeongkwan’s eyes on his face.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>8pm!  [location pin link]</em> </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>See you then!  Can’t wait!</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun feels like screaming, but his voice comes out measured.  “He’s coming over to my place on Friday.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan makes a strangled, excited noise. It’s not exactly a word, but it kinda works. </p>
<p>“That’s right,” Donghun shakes his head.  He imitates Byeongkwan’s strangled, excited noise. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan whacks him on the shoulder.  “You’re rude.”  He sighs happily.  “But that’s so exciting.  He’s so hot.”</p>
<p>Donghun feels himself flush a bit – not a common reaction on his part, and his friend immediately picks up on it. </p>
<p>“You are so fucked.” </p>
<p>Donghun groans instead of answering. </p>
<p>“Well, no,” says Byeongkwan. “Not yet, I guess.  But soon.”</p>
<p>It’s Donghun’s turn to whack his friend on the arm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But… well.  <em>Well.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donghun spends Christmas with Byeongkwan and his family, just as he’s done every year since he moved out of his parents’ house.  Even before that, he spent so much time at Byeongkwan’s house that he had a designated seat at the family table. </p>
<p>This year, things feel a little different.  </p>
<p>Byeongkwan’s considering enlisting soon, and by the end of Christmas dinner, it’s apparent his whole family is on board with the idea.  Better to get it over with now, they agree, and then he can spend leisurely years in the future cultivating the kinds of string-pulling, favor-cashing connections that take concierges decades to forge.  Eunyoon, the senior concierge at The Pearl Odette in Seoul, can finagle guests tickets to sold-out shows, tables at fully-booked restaurants, and even meet ‘n’ greet spots with many K-pop idols – but it’s taken her many years to develop the business relationships necessary for that kind of pull. </p>
<p>The Kim family home has a small, covered balcony.  It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s charming and peaceful, with a decent view over the neighborhood’s tree-lined streets.  After dinner, Donghun sits on the balcony with his friend, huddled together in blankets on an old rattan sofa.  It’s cozy enough, the air mercifully quiet and still.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you’re really going to do this,” says Donghun.  “What am I going to do without you at work?  I feel like I’ve been living some cliché dream, getting to work alongside my best friend since childhood.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan leans his head onto Donghun’s shoulder.  “You mean, after you go fuck Park Junhee’s brains out on tomorrow’s date and forget all about me?” </p>
<p>Donghun mutter of disapproval is half-hearted.  “I’m being serious, Kwan-ah.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan sighs and hugs the blankets closer around them.  “Well, you could apply for that open front desk trainer position in the USA.  That or deal with Kang Hojin for the next few years.” </p>
<p>Donghun scoffs.  “I’m pretty sure he’s done dealing with us anyway.  What an asshole.” </p>
<p>“Did you, Mister Professional Smiler, just call one of our guests an asshole?” </p>
<p>“Of course not, Concierge-nim.  I would never do such a thing.”</p>
<p>“Too bad,” sighs Byeongkwan, a touch melodramatically.  “It would seem to be karmically preordained if we had indeed wrecked a car belonging to one of the grossest, most misogynistic excuses for a human male this country has ever produced.” </p>
<p>“Well, when you put it like that… yeah, he’s a fucking asshole.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan snuggles in closer.  “I knew you’d see the light.” </p>
<p>They look out over the quiet residential neighborhood, watching the night sky get darker around them. </p>
<p>“I’m serious,” says Byeongkwan, as the house across the street illuminates with strings of Christmas lights.  “Go abroad.  See the world, while you can.  Write me letters, so that my bored, conscripted ass can live through your adventures.  You know working in different hotels is the only way to really get promoted if you want to move up the management ladder, and I’ll be pissed if you wait to go abroad just as I finish serving in the military.” </p>
<p>As much as Donghun has started to feel settled at The Pearl Odette, Seoul – maybe for the first time anywhere in his life – he knows his friend is right.  “I’ll apply.  But you know I might not get the job.  My English is mediocre.” </p>
<p>“Sure.  Then apply for the next one that comes up.” </p>
<p>Donghun nods.  “Okay.” </p>
<p>“Promise?” </p>
<p>He gives Byeongkwan a kiss in his hair before responding.  “Promise.” </p>
<p>They watch a young family spill out of the house with the Christmas lights.  Two children hug their grandparents goodbye on the front doorstep before clambering into the car with their parents. </p>
<p>“Do you think we’ll ever be domestic like that, hyung?” </p>
<p>Donghun snorts.  “I fucking hope not.”  </p>
<p>They only last a few more minutes on the balcony before the cold becomes too much for them.  Byeongkwan’s mother is calling them indoors, worried that both her boys – biological and honorary – might freeze or catch a cold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun’s mind is so preoccupied with thoughts of Byeongkwan’s upcoming enlistment that he almost doesn’t have the mental space to panic over his date with Park Junhee. </p>
<p>Almost. </p>
<p>He has a minor meltdown in front of his wardrobe and suddenly wishes he had the kind of gentle, soothing friend who could kindly advise him without sass.  </p>
<p>Instead, he has…</p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>Don’t be a fucking moron.  You have skinny jeans.  You have legs that look good in skinny jeans.  Wear the fucking skinny jeans.</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>How are you the rudest person alive?</em> </p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>So sorry.  I mean… Wear the fucking skinny jeans, HYUNG.</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>We’re literally just ordering food in and watching a movie on TV, why do I need to be dressy</em> </p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>The fact that you think skinny jeans are dressy is proof positive you don’t get to make your own fashion decisions anymore</em> </p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>Skinny jeans.</em> </p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>… Hyung.</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Dipshit.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he puts on the skinny jeans, as well as an oversized, sage green sweater.  He decides against contacts and settles on golden-rimmed glasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun’s apartment is small, with a kitchenette somewhat resembling a child’s play kitchen set, but it’s his and his alone.  For a junior professional in an expensive city, he’s proud of renting his own humble abode.  Sure, there are nicer buildings in better parts of town, but this tiny, clean apartment is his, and he loves it. </p>
<p>It’s only when he hears the knock on the door that his heart really leaps into his throat; he looks around, seeing the room the way he imagines Junhee will, in precious few seconds.  His home is nothing impressive.</p>
<p>He stills his breathing and opens the door to find one extremely attractive singer, wearing a puffy black coat, on his doorstep. </p>
<p>“Hi!” says Junhee, eyes sparkling.  “I brought this!  You know, to go with dinner.”  He extends his hand and thrusts a bottle of wine into Donghun’s surprised grasp. </p>
<p>“I had just been thinking of pizza,” says Donghun, suddenly unsure of his casual dinner plans in the face of this expensive-looking bottle.  “But, um, anyway, welcome in.  Yeah, you can leave your shoes and coat here.” </p>
<p>Junhee shrugs off his outerwear and runs a hand through his hair – a totally unconscious (and thus doubly sexy) act that makes Donghun’s breath catch in his throat.  </p>
<p>“Pizza sounds great!” says Junhee, and he looks like he means it.  “To tell you the truth, I’m starving.  My label is worried that I’ll pack on the pounds during this break, but you only live once.” </p>
<p>Donghun smiles and places the wine bottle on his tiny kitchen counter.  “Are you going to be scandalized if we drink this out of mugs?” he asks.</p>
<p>“God, no,” laughs Junhee.  “Crack ’er open, let’s see what she’s like!”</p>
<p>“Say no more,” agrees Donghun.  “If we get started now, the pizza will taste even better, right?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely.  And if you’re thinking I’m some sort of wine snob, let me assure you that I literally just asked the wine shop clerk what to bring on a first date and bought the first bottle he named.” </p>
<p>Donghun shakes his head as he fumbles in a drawer for the wine opener.  “Shouldn’t have told me that.  You could have made up all sorts of things to impress me.  ‘A delicate note of apricot, with a lingering freesia nose.  Impressive mouthfeel, like a delicate oyster harvested from a frigid bay.’  You know, all that bullshit.” </p>
<p>“Except I’m not half as creative,” says Junhee, looking genuinely impressed.  “Pretty sure all I would be able to say is ‘Tastes of grape, I guess, but fermented.’” </p>
<p>Donghun grins and passes him a mug of wine.  They both pause, and Donghun says, “Do we toast to anything?” </p>
<p>Junhee looks thoughtful for a second.  “To somehow not creeping each other out – yet, anyway – despite having met each other only twice in over a year, in a hotel, under peculiar circumstances both times!” </p>
<p>“You want me to repeat all that?!” Donghun laughs. </p>
<p>“Nah.  Cheers!”  They tap their mugs together, and Donghun feels his face warm slightly before he even takes a sip. </p>
<p>It really should be criminal, being this easy to talk to, and Donghun feels a little fluttery around the edges. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as the pizza arrives, they sit on the sofa, perching plates and pizza slices on their laps, mugs of wine on the floor next to their feet.</p>
<p>They debate what to watch on Netflix; Junhee wants to watch a comedy movie, and Donghun is inclined toward a true-crime docudrama. </p>
<p>“Alright, fine, I’ll just… hold down the remote over the suggested movies and whatever it lands on, at the count of three, we watch,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>Junhee looks at him, open-mouthed.  “Are you always this much of a risk-taker?” </p>
<p>“No!  Not with, like, <em>big</em> decisions.  But life’s too short to fuck around dithering over the little stuff, right?” </p>
<p>“I guess…” </p>
<p>“That or it’s the hotel worker in me, always chanting ‘sense of urgency, sense of urgency’ about everything I do.” </p>
<p>“Sounds stressful.” </p>
<p>Donghun shrugs and fiddles with the remote.  “It’s fine.  Being kept busy to an extreme level keeps my runaway thoughts from spiraling away on their own, which… honestly, it’s probably helpful for my sanity.  Or something.”  He looks back at Junhee.  “Anyway… you in?”</p>
<p>Junhee tilts his head a bit, then nods.  “I’m in.” </p>
<p>“One… two… THREE!”  Donghun lets go of the remote button. </p>
<p>They both groan before laughing out loud.  </p>
<p>“<em>Barbie’s Great Cotton Candy Adventure?</em>  Jesus, why is that even in my recommended movies?!” Donghun is mortified. </p>
<p>“You sticking to your guns about this?” Junhee appears to be near tears, he’s laughing so hard. </p>
<p>“No, you know what?  Fuck it.  We don’t even need a movie, let’s just talk.”  Donghun turns the TV off with a resolute click, frowning at the screen, before cutting his eyes quickly back to Junhee.  “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” </p>
<p>“That’s… that’s actually perfect.”  The singer nods, his breath slowly returning to normal after the laughing fit.  He inhales deeply.  “I like talking to you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And they talk.  For one hour, then another, and another, long after the pizza and wine are finished.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun, to his own astonishment, finds himself telling Junhee all about growing up feeling extraneous to his parents’ lives, his friendship with Byeongkwan, and Byeongkwan’s upcoming enlistment.  He explains that he does have other acquaintances, but… he’s never made true friends easily.</p>
<p>Junhee tells him about his own family life – close-knit and supportive, even when Junhee acted up rebelliously.  Well… right until Junhee had come out as bisexual, that is, when suddenly his parents seemed to regret any leniency they’d granted him over the years.  But now, Junhee says, they’re slowly coming around.  He even spent Chuseok with them a few months ago. </p>
<p>“Tell me about the singing thing,” says Donghun.  “I know you’re going to think this is crazy, but I really do not keep up with pop culture at all.  It’s actually helpful in my job, because I’m never intimidated by celebrities.” </p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know if I count as a celebrity,” says Junhee, a deep blush overtaking his face.  “So… I used to live in the company dorm, with the boy trainees, actually.  They couldn’t really put me in with their idol group that just debuted.  It’d be weird, since I’m a solo singer.  It’d be like Junhee plus his merry band of idol brothers.” </p>
<p>“That sounds like a sitcom I would absolutely watch.  But okay, so you don’t live in the company dorm anymore?” </p>
<p>Junhee shifts his legs, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since arriving at Donghun’s apartment.  “I don’t.  I was able to move out earlier this year, after ‘Someone You Loved’ did well in the charts.” </p>
<p>Donghun knows exactly which song Junhee is talking about, and he feels his stomach plummet just thinking about it.  “That is an amazing song.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, um… thank you,” says Junhee. “Anyway, it’s just a job.  I like it though.  And not everyone can say that.  I wake up every morning grateful to be doing what I do.” </p>
<p>“Me too,” says Donghun.  “It’s funny, because I’m pretty sure that the corporate powers that run The Pearl Odette think all the staff members are in it for the glamour of working in such a luxurious environment, meeting VIPs – but like I said, I don’t give a shit about the rich and famous.  I’m in it for the thrill of knowing it’s a job I do really well, and the tight-knit family feel of being aboard this high-stress situation with fellow crazies.  It’s an environment you can’t understand unless you’ve done it, too.” </p>
<p>“I’m glad I’m not rich and famous,” says Junhee, mischief creeping into his smile. </p>
<p>“Yeah, the security and privacy concerns of the really, really famous people… it’s truly something else.  Nothing I’d want to deal with, either.” </p>
<p>“Not what I meant.” Junhee shakes his head.  “You said you don’t give a shit about them.  And… I want you to care.  About me, I mean.”</p>
<p>Donghun stares at him.  He checks to make sure he’s not about to kick over either mug, not that there’s any wine left in either one, scoots over on the sofa, and kisses Junhee. </p>
<p>He tastes of wine and pizza and perfection, and Donghun never, ever wants him to leave this tiny apartment.  </p>
<p>Junhee responds to the kiss with equal intensity, and soon Donghun’s head is spinning, feeling Junhee’s lips against his own, his tongue inside Donghun’s mouth, the soft touch of nose against nose. </p>
<p>When they break apart, Junhee breathes, “Your lips feel even better than they look.  I would have thought that was impossible.”</p>
<p>So Donghun kisses him again. And again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, Junhee, breathless and beautiful, regret clinging to every syllable, says he needs to go. </p>
<p>“Yeah, okay,” says Donghun, trying to get his bearings as he stands and walks Junhee the short distance to the door.  “We could… do this… again sometime?” </p>
<p>Junhee leans in for one last kiss.  “Absolutely.  Thank you, Donghun.” </p>
<p>The door closes behind him, and Donghun represses the urge to scream in delirious happiness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s on their fourth date, at a chocolate shop late at night, that a stranger recognizes Junhee for the first time in Donghun’s presence. </p>
<p>The singer makes frequent use of glasses, hats, and facemasks.  Combined with an easygoing demeanor, he blends into most crowds seamlessly.</p>
<p>It’s not that Donghun has forgotten that Junhee is a singer.  Nearly every day, they exchange texts about their respective workdays – and nearly every day, Donghun finds himself both giving and requesting more emotional support from Junhee. </p>
<p>But somehow (ironically, probably, given Donghun’s workplace), he’s managed either to forget or to block out the deeper implications of Junhee’s career.  It’s just not a facet of the man’s life that seems relevant to Donghun.</p>
<p>The fan is nearly breathless, visibly hyperventilating.  “You’re Park Junhee,” she says, as Junhee and Donghun sip on their hot chocolates.  Junhee smiles a fake smile, and for one insane second, Donghun thinks, <em>I can teach him a much better fake smile than that.</em> </p>
<p>But of course the fan doesn’t realize that Junhee’s smile is more of a grimace, just as she doesn’t seem to notice or care that it’s nearly midnight and he clearly doesn’t want to be interacting with fans at the moment. </p>
<p>“I’d love to chat,” says the singer, “But I’m here with my friend and we’re–” </p>
<p>“I bought your album,” says the fan.  “I cried to Someone You Loved every day, for months.”  Her voice nearly disappears into her handbag, where her shaking hands are fumbling around for something – a phone.  A phone in a sticker-covered case, with a tiny unicorn dangling from a chain.</p>
<p>She takes a picture of Junhee, hands still trembling, and is about to photograph Donghun as well when Junhee’s sharp voice interrupts her.  “Please don’t.  My friend isn’t famous.” </p>
<p>Donghun, slightly nervous, makes the mistake of smiling at her – not The Showstopper, but a brilliant smile nonetheless – and she gasps.  “He will be,” she says. </p>
<p>She brings her phone back up to eye level, and Junhee rushes up from the table, nearly knocking over the delicate, hot cocoa-filled porcelain cups.  He physically stands between the fan and Donghun.  “Do you… do you want us to take a selca together?” he offers, voice saccharine. </p>
<p>Her shocked eyes and delighted smile suddenly impress upon Donghun just how young this girl is.  He and Junhee aren’t all that long out of high school themselves (Donghun is a touch older), but this fan must still have a curfew and a school uniform.  A uniform into which she tucks a phone with a unicorn charm; a uniform she wears while she plays Junhee’s song on repeat, crying to the sound of his voice. </p>
<p>“I’ll take the picture for you,” Donghun offers, and Junhee looks at him, relief and gratitude evident in his expression.  She nods, happily.  “I can’t believe my sister isn’t here,” she says.  “But with a picture…”  </p>
<p>Donghun waits for the fan to finish desperately arranging her hair.  It doesn’t look any different when she’s done, he thinks, but she nods – and he snaps several pictures, as Junhee flashes various hand signs, even including a little finger heart. </p>
<p>At this point, other patrons of the chocolate shop are starting to take notice. </p>
<p>Junhee excuses himself to the fan, who thanks him profusely.  Tears are gathering in her eyes with alarming speed.</p>
<p>Both men exit the shop as quickly as possible, cups of no-longer-hot chocolate gone to waste. </p>
<p>Fortunately, they make it down the block and down several more city streets without further incident, Donghun letting the singer set both the pace and the path.  Their quiet footfalls barely interrupt the hum of Seoul city nightlife noise. </p>
<p>They reach a large crosswalk, and Junhee pauses.  “Do you want to come back to my place?” he says.  “It’s close.  And… it’s quiet.” </p>
<p>Donghun hasn’t seen Junhee’s apartment yet, and his quick acceptance is perhaps motivated as much by curiosity as anything else. </p>
<p>They walk a short distance further before Junhee arrives at a sleek high-rise building.  Donghun’s mind flashes back to his own small flat in a less-than-amazing neighborhood, and he suddenly feels a touch silly.  And maybe a bit lightheaded. </p>
<p>The doorman’s greeting is welcoming, and the lobby is immaculate.  Less ostentatious than that of The Pearl Odette, it’s discreetly elegant, with honey-colored wooden panels. </p>
<p>As they exit the elevator, Donghun realizes with a start that Junhee’s is one of only two apartments on the floor. </p>
<p>Junhee pauses at his front door, looking like he’s going to say something, then closes his mouth again and opens the door. </p>
<p>Donghun’s really not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this: an enormous, modern apartment that looks as if it’s been inhabited for all of two days, not the better part of a year.  A large room (the living room, in theory?) looks even more gigantic for its total lack of furniture.  One lonely cardboard box sits in a corner of the spacious entryway, and there are coat hooks on the wall – but no shoe rack.  Junhee’s shoes are scattered on the wooden floor, a rough constellation of footwear roughly centered on the front door.</p>
<p>As Donghun takes his shoes off, Junhee’s words suddenly tumble from his lips. “I… I keep meaning to get more furnishings.  It still doesn’t feel like home, and just… I dunno.  God, you must think I’m such a weirdo!  It just didn’t seem like a priority right when I moved in.  Everything was so busy and crazy… and then one week led to the next, and the next, and buying stuff to fill this place never really rose to the top of my to-do list.  Before I knew it, I had been here for months, still without a sofa or end tables – whatever those even are, but I think I’m supposed to have them – or a bathroom mirror.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have a bathroom mirror?” Donghun <em>is</em> a little weirded out.  But also maybe… a touch impressed? </p>
<p>Junhee looks embarrassed.  “I do have a really big mirror in the bedroom, so I can use that to make sure I don’t walk out into public with, like, toothpaste smeared all over my face or anything.” </p>
<p>“Is that a common issue for you?”</p>
<p>“We can’t all be fancy hotel staff, highly trained in the finer grooming arts.” </p>
<p>Donghun tuts his tongue.  “Pity.  Well, maybe someone as experienced as I am can train you properly, young friend.” </p>
<p>Junhee sighs.  “I… I didn’t mean to just dismiss you as a friend, back there.” </p>
<p>“Oh, no, wasn’t referring to that at all…” Donghun shakes his head.  “I don’t mind at all.  Like, of course that’s what you should call me.  Are you kidding me?  I know what people are like.  Crazy.  Crazy is what people are like.  A photographer punched our bellman the other day, trying to get a better shot of some girl group idol drinking at our bar.  What are you gonna do, say, ‘Hey, this is Lee Donghun – the hotel front desk agent who’s been trying to get into my pants lately?’  No way, I am not offended at all.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s embarrassed look gives way to a soft smile.  “Are you trying to get into my pants?” </p>
<p>Donghun scoffs.  “Clearly.  You think I got off work tonight, at 11 o’clock at night, feet aching and back sore, and decided to go get midnight hot chocolate with some dude halfway across the city, motivated by some mysterious reason <em>other</em> than lust?” </p>
<p>While he’s talking, Junhee closes the distance between them.  “Ah,” says the singer.  “So… it’s only lust.” </p>
<p>Donghun can’t quite keep up the act, not this close to Junhee – Junhee of the twinkling eyes, Junhee smelling faintly of winter walks in the crowded city, Junhee – Junhee on his lips, kissing him, kissing his sass right out of him. </p>
<p>Donghun pulls back slightly.  “No,” he whispers.  “It’s not only lust.”  Junhee kisses him again, pressing him against the wall; Donghun’s head nearly collides with a coat hook.</p>
<p>“Sorry!” winces Junhee.</p>
<p>“No problem.” Donghun is feeling gracious.  He pulls Junhee closer by the hips.  “But… you do have a bed, right?” he whispers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Junhee does have a bed.  A beautiful, vintage teak bed.  A bed with feather-soft, high-thread-count cotton sheets, the kind that The Pearl Odette reserves for its highest floors and most luxurious suites. </p>
<p>Donghun and Junhee spend a considerable part of the night doing their best to ensure that these sheets will never be usable again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun may have arrived at the flat a little sore from a day on his feet at work, but by the time he leaves in the morning, both he and Junhee are sore enough that the memory of those aches is a laughable echo of his current physical state. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun kisses Junhee’s sleeping brow before leaving.  As he waits for the elevator, he takes out his phone to send him a little goodbye message – he really doesn’t want to just vanish without contact, not after a night like that. </p>
<p>What he sees is a waiting message from his best friend.</p>
<p><strong>Kim Byeongquestionable</strong><br/><em>Hyung.  Did you tell him yet??</em> </p>
<p>Christ.  Can’t he at least enjoy the afterglow for one lousy morning?  He groans in frustration and puts his phone back in his pocket. </p>
<p>Donghun steps out onto the sidewalk, and the cold city air hits his face.  He pauses at the crosswalk to pull his phone back out.  He fires off a sweet goodbye note to Junhee, then taps back to his text conversation with Byeongkwan.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>No.  I didn’t.</em> </p>
<p>The light changes, and Donghun starts walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sehyoon is so beautiful that I'm a little sorry he's not in this chapter.  And never fear; Chan awaits.  Soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What you’re saying is… that you’re an idiot,” Byeongkwan decides, legs tucked under him, snuggled into the corner of Donghun’s old couch.  </p>
<p>“No, Kwan-ah,” says Donghun, perilously close to feeling truly angry with his friend, for the first time in years.  “What I’m saying is that he had just had a rough experience with a fan, and I was not about to dump an announcement like that onto him the same night.” </p>
<p>“It doesn’t even sound that rough, hyung!  It just sounds like there was a fan who was excited to meet him!  Did she like, try to touch him?” </p>
<p>“No, but – ” </p>
<p>“Did she follow you out into the street?” </p>
<p>“<em>NO,</em> but – ” </p>
<p>“And she was there by coincidence, right?!” </p>
<p>“I never said she was a sasaeng!” Donghun feels close to combustion.  “I’m saying that I could see that he was upset by her.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan softens his expression.  “He probably deals with this all the time.  But I get it.  You feel defensive of your new boyfriend.” </p>
<p>“I’m not even his boyfriend,” Donghun grumbles, slumping over slightly, tracing circles on the rug underneath him. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan purses his lips.  “You’re right.  Your fuckbuddy, then.  So you felt defensive of your new fuckbuddy, and also you wanted to get that sweet dick – ” </p>
<p>“Can’t you give it a rest?!”  </p>
<p>“ – And so in pursuit of said sweet dick, you decided not to tell said fuckbuddy that you’re moving halfway around the world, and therefore it is now you who are, in fact, the dick.” </p>
<p>Donghun fixes his eyes on Byeongkwan’s.  “I want you to go.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan throws a sofa cushion at Donghun, who catches it easily and slams it onto the rug next to him. “Oh, when Junhee’s a ‘truth enthusiast,’ whatever that means, it’s cute, but when I tell you harsh truths, you want to shut me out?”</p>
<p>“I said… I want you to go.”  Donghun’s nerves tremble with the effort required not to strike his best friend. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan turns his head slowly, keeping his eyes on Donghun’s.  “You’re that upset about this?” He speaks slowly, cautiously.  “It’s not my fault you have to make a tough decision.” </p>
<p>“Argh!” Donghun takes the cushion and throws it back at Byeongkwan.  “You literally are the reason I applied for the job in the first place!  ‘See the world, Donghun.  Get a promotion, hyung!’ You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”</p>
<p>Byeongkwan slides slowly off the sofa, joining his friend on the floor.  His voice is so low that Donghun has to strain to make out the words.  “Are you saying you don’t want the job at all, and you only applied because I told you so?  Is that true?” </p>
<p>Donghun closes his eyes in a long blink and exhales.  “No.” </p>
<p>“Because if it is, don’t take the fucking job.  Stay here, regardless of Junhee or me or anybody.” </p>
<p>Donghun puts his head in his hands.  “No… no.” He feels like something inside him is breaking, something dangerously close to where in theory a heart should be.  “I want the job.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan scoots closer to Donghun and slowly wraps tentative arms around him.  “Okay.  Then take the job.  You wouldn’t even leave for another month, right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, they… they want to put me through intensive English lessons.  Total immersion.” </p>
<p>“Right.  So you can still see him until then.  But hyung, don’t keep this from him any longer.” </p>
<p>Donghun’s breaths are shaky.  “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” He takes several more long breaths, grateful that Byeongkwan isn’t interrupting, for once.  “I don’t know if I’m more scared that he’s going to be upset about me going or… that he isn’t going to be that upset at all.” </p>
<p>“That’s understandable,” says Byeongkwan, drawing him closer.  “I know I’ve sort of made light of your relationship with him, but I would be shocked if he didn’t care.  I mean, you haven’t let me meet him yet, but if what you’ve said about all of your interactions is true… he’s your boyfriend, hyung, and he’s going to hurt.” </p>
<p>Donghun’s breaths have evened out again.  Thank fuck for that.  He hasn’t cried since he was little, and he doesn’t intend to resume now.</p>
<p>They sit on the rug in silence for several minutes, listening to each other’s heartbeats and the sound of the neighboring apartment’s faulty water heater. </p>
<p>“I can’t believe I’ll be leaving before you,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>“Not by much.” </p>
<p>Donghun rests his head against his friend’s.  “I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>“Me too.”</p>
<p>The neighbor’s water heater turns off, and a deep silence fills the room. </p>
<p>“But,” says Byeongkwan stretching his limbs and dislodging Donghun’s head from his own.  “It <em>was</em> pretty sweet dick, for you to wait that long to text me back, huh?” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs a little, despite himself.  “I still hate you.  I just love you, too.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.  Save it for Junhee.”  Byeongkwan stands up.  “Let’s go get something to eat.  Convenience store ramyeon, or something equally fancy.  I’m in the mood for haute cuisine.” </p>
<p>Donghun nods and stands slowly, stretching his legs.  He’s going to need some strength, after all.  “Spoken like a true concierge,” he says.  “Luxury through and through.”</p>
<p>Byeongkwan, ever talented, manages to nod graciously while putting on his winter coat and shoes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The restaurant Junhee has picked out is subterranean, tucked under an unassuming arcade of storefronts.  Donghun descends a dark, curving staircase into the restaurant, wondering why Junhee would have chosen this location, until he reaches the bottom.  </p>
<p>The space is illuminated by the glow of warm candlelight, the tables are beautiful blonde wood, and the gentle hum of conversation is muted by the low ceilings.  He spots Junhee sitting at a corner table and walks over to join him.  </p>
<p>Junhee’s generally sparkling eyes look a little worried, but then… maybe Donghun is just projecting his own concern.  It certainly feels as though his heart is creeping steadily up his throat with every step he takes toward Junhee. </p>
<p>“Hi,” says the singer.  “Glad you found it!  I know the location is a little weird, but it’s just so cozy, especially in winter.” </p>
<p>“I totally see what you mean,” agrees Donghun. He feels his body relax slightly in the warm, slightly dim setting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re mostly done eating when Junhee sighs.  “I can tell you’re worried.  I was going to tell you about it after dinner, but it’s just weird feeling like I have this great big secret.  I guess you probably saw it on the internet or something.” </p>
<p>Donghun is taken aback.  “I didn’t see anything on the internet.  I have something to tell you, though.” </p>
<p>It’s Junhee’s turn to look flummoxed.  “Okay.  Well, do you want to go first?” </p>
<p>“No, no.  I interrupted you, kind of.” </p>
<p>Junhee takes a deep breath before he speaks.  “I’m going on a global tour.  That is – they’re sending me on a tour.  It’s a really big opportunity, and it just… it sucks because… well.”  He smiles nervously at Donghun.  “The timing sucks.  I wanted to know: do you want to date me?  Like, officially?  Even if I have to leave you all alone for weeks and weeks?” </p>
<p>Donghun feels his soul sink down out from under him, landing somewhere between the seating cushion and the deep, dark earth he knows lies under the floor.  He can neither formulate a response nor avert his trembling gaze from Junhee’s face.</p>
<p>Junhee’s expression changes from nervous to devastated.  “Please tell me you’re just that upset about the tour, and not the thought of dating me,” he whispers. </p>
<p>Donghun finally finds his voice.  “I’m moving to the USA.”  It isn’t quite how he’d meant to break the news.</p>
<p>Junhee’s face cycles through a flurried whirlwind of different emotions, eventually settling into something resembling horror. </p>
<p>“You… you what?” </p>
<p>“I got a job in the USA.  Still with The Pearl Odette, but it’s… it’s a promotion, and I shouldn’t turn it down.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s smile has no mirth behind it.  “I can’t believe this.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” </p>
<p>“Wait, how long have you known?”  Junhee’s voice rises a bit.  “When do you go?” </p>
<p>Donghun rushes to defend himself.  “Not that long, Junhee!  I really only decided to accept the offer yesterday, but I already… I already knew I was probably going when we… when I slept over.  I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s complexion is looking a little green.  “So when do you go?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, ummm…  About a month.  They’re sending me to this intensive English language course, first.” </p>
<p>“Where exactly are you moving?”</p>
<p>“Atlanta.  I don’t know all that much about it, but I’ve been reading up.  It’s hot there.  They eat a lot of peaches.”   </p>
<p>Junhee’s slender frame appears to be collapsing in on itself.  “If I were a funnier person, I’d find a witty way to joke about the fact that my global tour isn’t global enough, since that’s not one of the cities on my itinerary.” </p>
<p>Donghun notices that the waitress is giving them strange looks.  “Junhee, let’s keep talking at my place, okay?” </p>
<p>Junhee manages to nod his agreement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re barely inside Donghun’s apartment before they’re kissing, each racing to crash his lips against the other’s.  They manage to extract themselves from their layers of winterwear before stumbling to Donghun’s bedroom, Junhee’s fingers clawing feverishly at Donghun’s back, Donghun’s hands tearing roughly at Junhee’s hair. </p>
<p>Donghun swivels Junhee to the bed and throws him onto the covers. </p>
<p>“Hey,” says Junhee, face awash in dark humor, “Do you get to manhandle me when you’re the one about to abandon me?” </p>
<p>“Yes,” answers Donghun, crawling onto the bed and pinning Junhee’s hands above his head.  “Because you, Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee, lied to me.” </p>
<p>“Why are you saying it like that, like it’s a title? And when did I lie?!” Junhee looks genuinely baffled. </p>
<p>Donghun kisses him roughly before answering, teeth tearing slightly at the singer’s lips.  “That is your title.  In my phone anyway.” </p>
<p>“What?!” Junhee struggles to free his hands but is unsuccessful, under Donghun’s determined weight. </p>
<p>“And you lied twice.  You said you weren’t rich or famous, but it turns out you’re both.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s startled laugh rings loudly in Donghun’s ears.  “Is that why you’re going?  That, or you just don’t care about me enough to stay?” </p>
<p>Donghun inhales his breath in a hiss.  He pushes down harder on Junhee’s wrists.  “My job may not be as glamorous as yours, but I’m not crazy for prioritizing it.” </p>
<p>Junhee flushes a deeper red.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think about what I was saying.” </p>
<p>Donghun looks at him for a second, then moves his hands, allowing Junhee to shake out his wrists. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Donghun.  It’s just… I’ve grown pretty attached to you, already.  I really did want to try dating you for real, you know?  Like, maybe for a while.  A long while.” </p>
<p>Donghun looks into the singer’s eyes, then closes his own.  He drops his face and kisses Junhee gently, surprising even himself with the delicate touch of his lips against Junhee’s.  The singer, as always, tastes faintly sweet – as if his earnest nature transforms to skeins of spun sugar under Donghun’s tongue. </p>
<p>He reluctantly lifts his face from Junhee’s.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Yeah, I do know.” </p>
<p>Their next kiss is a little more resolute, brooking no interruptions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun awakens with a gasp.  Already, his dream is fading, but its primary feeling – panic, an unbridled, hopeless panic – drags across his senses.  </p>
<p>He rolls over to find Junhee in his bed, wearing nothing, smelling both of sweat and comfort.  His gentle snores are steady in their rhythm.  Donghun extends his sleep-tender arm and pulls himself in closer, resting his head in the crook of Junhee’s shoulder. </p>
<p>The singer stirs, and Donghun murmurs an apology.  “No, it’s okay. I love you,” Junhee slurs into his hair, and he’s asleep again nearly instantly.  </p>
<p>Donghun lies awake for what could be minutes – hours – an eternity, before eventually drifting back into fitful dreams. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun and Byeongkwan host a joint goodbye party at the concierge’s home, deciding to make the most of Byeongkwan’s last remaining week on his apartment lease. </p>
<p>Sehyoon brings his girlfriend, Seoyeon. Miyoung in Room Service shows up with Taehoon from Security; Donghun hadn’t even realized they were an item, but then, he’s been spending long days cramming English, out of the hotel gossip loop.  Miyoung fortunately either doesn’t remember Junhee’s little crying incident, so many moons ago, or has chosen not to mention it.  Either is fine by Donghun.  He’s delighted to see that Hyewon, sharp-as-a-tack Housekeeping supervisor, is able to join them; hers is among the more volatile and high-pressure positions, and getting an evening off to socialize is not a given for her.</p>
<p>Junhee attends, of course, totally unfazed by the thought of spending an evening drinking at a house party with a slew of hotel employees.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun had barely found the time to introduce Byeongkwan and Junhee to each other beforehand, meeting at a bar late at night when all three were exhausted.  Byeongkwan had first acted a little unlike himself.  Rather, he’d come off unlike the <em>real</em> Byeongkwan and more like the polite, luxury hotel version of himself, until Junhee had choked on a handful of dried nuts.  Byeongkwan whacked him on the back and said, “I thought singers were supposed to have good control of their breathing, but that’s clearly not the case.” Junhee’s choking sounds subsided into wheezing, then genuine laughter, and Donghun knew they were going to get along just fine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun introduces Junhee to the other hotel staff as his friend, and nobody overtly questions their relationship.  </p>
<p>Still, at one point, Donghun catches Sehyoon looking at him thoughtfully from across the room.  He and Seoyeon are in one conversational cluster; Donghun and Junhee are in another.  Donghun follows Sehyoon’s gaze and realizes his own hand is intertwined, by instinct, with Junhee’s.  He slowly, quietly, disentangles their grasp – Junhee never breaking conversational stride. </p>
<p>Donghun gives Sehyoon a tiny nod; the valet driver gives him a faint trace of a smile before turning his attention back to whatever his girlfriend is saying. </p>
<p>Later in the evening, Donghun joins Hyewon, Byeongkwan, and Seoyeon near the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Yeah, everybody always says it’s cute that our names are so similar,” says Seoyeon, “But I think it’s kind of annoying.  I wish he would just go by something else.”</p>
<p>“Go by something else?” asks Hyewon.  “Like, adopt a totally different name?” </p>
<p>“Sure,” says Seoyeon.  “Plenty of people do.  There are so many options!” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan’s gaze may appear neutral, but Donghun knows his friend too well to be fooled.  “What would you suggest he change it to?” asks the concierge. </p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know; it doesn’t matter,” says Seoyeon.  “Yours is fine, it’s not like I’m ever going to meet you again.  By the time you’re out of the military, he should be done with art school and can be free from his valet job.  And your name is unusual enough; it’d work perfectly!  Maybe I’ll just start calling him Byeongkwan.  He won’t tell me no.”  She takes a sip of her drink.  “He never tells me no.” </p>
<p>Hyewon’s voice is dry.  “So… we should have two Kim Byeongkwans at work?  Don’t you think that might be a touch less than ideal?” </p>
<p>“Oh,” giggles Seoyeon, throwing her glossy hair behind her shoulder.  “I hadn’t thought of that.” </p>
<p>“If you’ll excuse me,” says Byeongkwan, grabbing Donghun by the elbow.  He steers them to a quieter corner and tells Donghun, “Do you think it’s too late to postpone my enlistment?  There’s still time.  Somebody has to save him from her.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs, a touch sadly.  “You know that he’s going to have to figure it out on his own, right?” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan frowns into his glass, lower lip at full pout.  “Well, anyway, I’ve got nothing left to lose, now.  Maybe I’ll just confess, finally, and be done with it.” </p>
<p>“Don’t do anything dumb!”  </p>
<p>“What, like starting a love affair right before you move across the globe?” </p>
<p>Donghun sighs.  “Fair.  Well, just… be kind to him, you know?”  </p>
<p>The younger man’s face is unreadable, even to his best friend of many years. But that level of pouting concerns Donghun.  Byeongkwan is a force onto himself, unstoppable by any third party intervention or social norms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Late into the night, most party attendees have left.  Only remaining are the hosts, Junhee, Sehyoon, and Seoyeon, who has fallen asleep in an armchair.</p>
<p>“She’s cute,” says Donghun.  Byeongkwan furrows his brows at his friend.  But it’s true; even now, drooling slightly into the back of the armchair upholstery, she’s cute. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” says Sehyoon, but there’s something clouded in his expression. </p>
<p>Donghun clears his throat.  “Kwan-ah, would you like help taking the trash out?  I can’t believe how much debris one little party can generate.” </p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll help!” Sehyoon scrambles to his feet.  “I should at least contribute some tiny effort, after you two hosted the most fun party I’ve attended in a long time.”  Byeongkwan’s eyes flutter a little in surprise.</p>
<p>Sehyoon and Byeongkwan rustle garbage bags together in the kitchen and then step out of the apartment, closing the door behind them softly, to avoid waking Seoyeon. </p>
<p>Junhee looks at Donghun.  “He’s got it bad, huh?” he whispers.  Donghun just nods. </p>
<p>Junhee rests his head on the older man’s shoulder.  “So do I,” he adds, voice still a feathery whisper. </p>
<p>The sound of Junhee’s voice whispered in his ear does things to Donghun’s slightly tipsy mind, as well as a little lower down in his body.  “You want to head out?” he asks the singer. </p>
<p>“Mm hrmm.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byeongkwan and Sehyoon seem to be gone a little longer than is strictly necessary to take out the trash.  When they return, Byeongkwan’s face is set in his trademark inscrutable gaze, but the valet looks the tiniest bit flustered.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll meet you tomorrow at 5 o’clock in the evening, right?” Byeongkwan asks Donghun, as he and Junhee put on their coats. </p>
<p>“Yep.  I’m already packed.”  Donghun hears his voice, steady and quiet, and congratulates himself on years of learning to repress his real emotions.</p>
<p>He’s surprised to see Byeongkwan give Junhee a goodbye hug – and even more surprised when Junhee leans over to the concierge to say, “I’ll write you, okay?” </p>
<p>Not even Byeongkwan can keep his face neutral at that.  He bites his lower lip and says, “I’d like that.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun and Junhee spend one last night at Donghun’s apartment, drowning out the sounds of the neighbor’s water heater. </p>
<p>The next morning, the singer has to leave for a schedule eating into most of his day, and his face is utterly devastated – reminding Donghun suddenly of the first night they met.  </p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t cry when he kisses Junhee goodbye. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But it’s a really, <em>really</em> close call. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The airport is only three stops away when Donghun finally asks.  “Did you tell him?” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan pauses.  “Yes.”  He turns from Donghun, peering out into the darkness.  The train window is scuzzy with pollution.</p>
<p>Donghun understands and doesn’t press the issue any further.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he touches down in Atlanta, after an over 13-hour flight, Donghun leans his head back against his headrest and realizes he never, ever wants to be on an airplane again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, my name is SunriseSeaMonster and I have accidentally seen Sehyoon's M/V Teaser, and now I am only semi-functional.  Please send help.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Donghun learned that Scott, his new roommate, was going to pick him up at the airport, he assumed Scott was acting out of a professional sense of politeness.  They’ll be working together at The Pearl Odette, Atlanta, after all.</p><p>But the redheaded man holding up the <strong>DONGHUN LEE</strong> sign at the arrivals area has a gigantic smile on his face and is nearly bouncing in happiness, as if he were genuinely delighted to be there.  He’s also wearing socks and flip-flops.  In February.</p><p>Donghun doesn’t have the strength for one of his truly radiant smiles, but he manages a weak grin as he drags his carry-on to the man with the sign. </p><p>“You must be Donghun!” the man says, mispronouncing the name.</p><p>“Yes, my name is Donghun.  I am pleased to meet you.”  Maybe Scott will have clocked the correct pronunciation.</p><p>It feels both too early and too late – time zones are crazy in Donghun’s mind at the moment – to be thinking and speaking in English, but the redhead beams. </p><p>“I’m Scott, and I’m so pumped that you’re gonna be living with me!  It’s a great little house, in a really fun part of town.  And your English is awesome!  Do you wanna get something to eat?  You must be really tired after that crazy long-haul flight!  But there’s so many options.  You’re gonna get so fat here, man, like, this city is <em>awesome</em> for food, like, you don’t even know.” </p><p>Donghun manages to catch the meaning of most of this quick flurry of words, thanks to the weeks of total language immersion.  He’s exhausted, but his stomach is growling.  “Yes, I would like to eat, please.” </p><p>“Cool, cool.  Let’s grab your bags from the baggage claim and then we’ll get you some serious Southern comfort food.  You’re gonna love it, Donghun. I just know it.”</p><p>So much for getting the pronunciation of his name right.  Donghun sighs.  He has a feeling this is going to be a running theme for the next few months or years of his life. </p><p> </p><p>Scott helps with Donghun’s luggage.  Fortunately, Donghun had managed to condense his life into two large suitcases and one carry-on, grateful to always have lived modestly. </p><p>They walk out of the sliding airport doors into weather not that much warmer than the late winter Donghun left behind in Seoul. </p><p>As they walk through the parking garage, Scott maintains a steady stream of commentary, peppered with occasional questions.  Donghun’s language teachers would be pleased; they said that the best way to learn English is to engage with it constantly. </p><p>By the time Scott pulls his sticker-covered hatchback into a restaurant parking lot, Donghun has heard the names of many future coworkers, the names of many Atlanta neighborhoods, and even some history of the region.  If he remembers even a word of this, he’ll count himself lucky.  </p><p>“Have you eaten brunch? Is brunch a thing in Korea?” asks Scott, as they approach the building. </p><p>“Brunch is… it exists in Korea,” says Donghun.  “But brunch is not, um, I don’t eat brunch very much.” </p><p>“Well, prepare yourself, my man,” grins Scott.  “Your digestive system may never be the same again!” </p><p> </p><p>One extravagant Atlanta-style brunch later, body bursting with chicken biscuits, poached eggs, bacon, sausage gravy, and hash browns, Donghun is extremely confident about one fact and one fact alone: The Pearl Odette, Atlanta must have had to hire a new Assistant Front Office Manager because the other one died when their stomach exploded. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want dessert?” asks Scott.  </p><p>Donghun stares at him. </p><p>Scott laughs.  “I’m kidding!  You’re gonna do great, Donghun.  Don’t worry about it.  But it looks like you could use a nap.  Let’s get you home.  We can talk about dinner later.”</p><p>The man is already thinking about dinner?!</p><p>Donghun is speechless, and it’s not due to any language barrier. </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>The house Donghun will be sharing with Scott is small and cozy.  There’s a shared bathroom between two small bedrooms, and while he’s in the shower, Donghun hears a faraway, old-fashioned train whistle.  </p><p>He collapses into bed and plugs in his phone, using his brand new American-voltage-rated phone charger. </p><p>He sees that he has one text. </p><p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/>
<em>I miss you already.</em> </p><p>Donghun blinks at his phone.  He closes the texting app, silences his phone, and goes to sleep. </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t answer Junhee’s text the next day, telling himself he’s just too overwhelmed with the novelty of a new job, new roommate, car shopping, and all the rest of it. </p><p>But then he doesn’t answer the text the day after that, either. </p><p> </p><p>Or the next day. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or the next.  </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>Slowly but surely, Donghun’s circle of Atlanta friends expands.  His first friends are Scott’s immediate coworkers in the accounting department at The Pearl Odette, but Scott’s other friends – including his girlfriend, Clarice – also quickly adopt the newcomer into their welcoming circle. </p><p>One sunny afternoon, sitting outside in the warming weather with Scott and Clarice, Donghun starts sneezing and coughing.  His eyes water much in the same way they had done on days when the fine dust pollution was strong, in Seoul. </p><p>“Is this pollution, in the air?” he asks.  </p><p>Scott looks confused, but Clarice understands immediately.  “Oh, no, honey!  This is the beginning of pollen season!  We’re gonna get you some drugs, fix you right up.  It’ll still suck, but it can suck less.” </p><p>Pollen season?  There’s an entire season named for pollen?</p><p>But soon, he understands.  The city becomes overtaken with opaque layers of yellow pollen, swirling in turbulent eddies with any outdoor movement. </p><p>Donghun has never seen anything like it.   One morning, as he opens his front door to go to work, a dislodged sheet of yellow pollen falls on him from the roof – like the sunniest, sneeziest rainstorm.  He has to go indoors and race to change his clothing. </p><p>It’s such a crazy experience that his first thought is that he needs to tell both Byeongkwan and Junhee about it. </p><p> </p><p>After work, Donghun sits down at his desk in his cozy bedroom.  He opens the texting app on his phone and stares at the now ancient text from Junhee. </p><p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/>
<em>I miss you already.</em> </p><p>Donghun closes the texting app.  He fumbles his phone around in his hands, then turns it off completely and tosses it to a corner of his bed.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls out a sheaf of paper and begins his latest letter to Byeongkwan, making sure to include the pollen-rain incident. </p><p>He doesn’t mention Junhee. </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>After an initial learning curve, Donghun proves to be a popular manager with the staff at The Pearl Odette, Atlanta.  He tries to be fair and considerate, and he never becomes overly emotionally invested in any of the small departmental dramas that arise. </p><p>Scott is a good roommate, chatty when Donghun is in the common areas, but respectful of his private time when he wants to be alone. </p><p>He receives funny, wry letters from Byeongkwan, plus an occasional phone call when his best friend has a rare moment of leave from his unit. </p><p>Sehyoon occasionally texts him updates on The Pearl Odette, Seoul; Hyewon has been promoted to Housekeeping and Maintenance Manager – a well-earned promotion. </p><p>Atlantans invariably get his name wrong, but they’re so friendly and warm on the whole that Donghun can’t even begrudge them this lapse.</p><p>Life is alright, all things considered. </p><p> </p><p>Which makes the increasingly hollow feeling in the pit of Donghun’s abdomen that much harder to explain. </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>After a long, hot, and humid summer, with far fewer peaches than Donghun had been led to expect, the cooling weather lures Atlanta residents to every outdoor seating area, in every corner of the city.  </p><p>Donghun and Scott are eating chicken pot pies at a sidewalk table when a dog on an extendable leash becomes wrapped around Donghun’s chair.  The dog, a scruffy, excited little terrier, doesn’t seem too distressed by the experience, but Donghun becomes increasingly mortified by his inability to extract the leash from the legs of his chair. </p><p>The restaurant server arrives and assists them all in disentangling the situation, and they all laugh with relief. </p><p>“You are finally free!” says Donghun.  “I apologize.”  He flashes his most winning, apologetic smile at the tall man holding the dog’s leash.</p><p>“No, no, not your fault at all.  Waffle just gets a little spastic sometimes,” says the man.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date!” </p><p>“Oh, no, we are not – he’s not… ” struggles Donghun. </p><p>Scott shrugs.  “We’re just friends.  Wait, were you trying to get an outdoor table here?  There’s always a crazy wait.  Just join our table!” </p><p>The dog’s owner accepts the offer.  His name is Daryl, and the dog is Waffle.  Waffle is a sweet little dog, and his owner has an easygoing laugh. </p><p>Scott excuses himself to go to the restroom, and in his absence, Daryl leans over toward Donghun. </p><p>“So, Donghun, would you maybe be interested in catching a coffee or dinner sometime?” </p><p>Donghun is stunned into accepting.  It feels like he’s being run on autopilot, exchanging phone numbers and talking to Daryl the rest of the evening. </p><p> </p><p>“He asked me out,” Donghun tells Scott, when they get home.  It’s the first time he’s so much as hinted at his sexuality, and he almost activates hotel-worker-mode to keep his voice steady, but his roommate seems unfazed.  </p><p>“Aw, I thought he might!  I took a little longer washing my hands to make sure he had a window of opportunity.  He was basically making heart eyes at you all evening.  Good for you, Donghun!” </p><p>Yes.  Of course.   Good for him. </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>Coordinating Byeongkwan’s leave with Donghun’s long hotel hours is difficult.  Byeongkwan calls him at 4 o’clock in the morning, Atlanta time.</p><p>After the basic catching-up is done, Donghun tells Byeongkwan about his upcoming date with Daryl. </p><p>Byeongkwan sighs.  “I guess you just weren’t into him, then.  It still might have been nice to let him know.” </p><p>“What are you talking about?” </p><p>Byeongkwan sighs.  “I’m talking about Junhee, hyung.  You just… you ghosted him!” </p><p>Donghun is shocked.  “What do you even know about it?” </p><p>“He writes me, Donghun.  Just like he said he would, even when he was on that tour, months ago.  I haven’t brought it up before, because I have some sense of decency, and he didn’t want me playing telephone.  But look, here I am, literally playing telephone.  You never answered him back, and you broke his heart.” </p><p>Donghun feels his face flush.  “I broke his heart?  Yeah, right.  We never talked about a long-distance relationship.  Neither of us did, Kwannie.  We were only dating for less than two months!” </p><p>Byeongkwan is quiet for a moment.  “I do forget that.  But I guess he fell for you quickly, because I’m pretty sure he’s still not over you.” </p><p>Donghun’s mind reels.  “Has he said that?  What does he say about me?” </p><p>Byeongkwan snorts.  “You think I’m going to tell you that?  Why don’t you fucking ask him yourself?  I’ve already told you more than I needed to, don’t you think?”</p><p>Donghun sits down on the edge of his bed.  The morning sky is rapidly shifting in color.  “Even long-distance, you manage to be infuriating, somehow.”</p><p>“Whatever, just don’t shut me out of your life the way you did Junhee.” </p><p>Donghun flops his back onto his bedcover and just breathes for a while.  “Can we talk about something else?” he says.  “Your family – I want to know how they’re doing.  And Sehyoon… we used to text more, but that’s sort of dropped off a bit. How is he?”</p><p>Their phone call shifts away from the topic of Junhee, but Donghun’s mind remains lodged there for the rest of the day. </p><p> </p><p>That night, Donghun dreams of a large, empty apartment, furnished only with a vintage teak bed.  He walks from room to room but cannot find an exit.  Every time he reenters a room he thought he’d already been in before, the room has changed, with mirrors and windows in different places. </p><p> </p><p>He wakes up sweating.  Still, he shivers.  </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>Donghun and Daryl meet for an early dinner at a Brazilian buffet in the suburbs.  Donghun decides that he’s a fan of the grilled meat and the small cheese breads.  He’s less convinced about the various mayonnaise-covered salad items, but on the whole, Brazilian food is a win for him. </p><p>Daryl, on the other hand, pouts at his plate.  “The reviews all mentioned the steak,” he says, “but this is pretty weird to me.” </p><p>“Weird?” asks Donghun.  “Do you mean that it’s different from your expectation?” </p><p>“I mean that it’s weird, like… a steak should be like a T-bone, or a porterhouse, or a New York strip.  Not whatever this is.” </p><p>“But why would they have a New York strip in Brazil?” asks Donghun. </p><p>Daryl’s smile looks a little forced.  “Well, I sort of assumed that since they’re in America now, they could adapt a bit, you know?” </p><p>No, Donghun doesn’t know.  Rather than answering, he takes a sip of his Brazilian soft drink.  <em>Guaraná</em>, it’s called.  Delicious stuff. </p><p>The subject dropped, Daryl’s easygoing smile slowly returns.</p><p>“So,” he asks Donghun, a little later in the meal.  “What do you do for work?” </p><p>“I am the Assistant Front Office Manager at a luxury hotel,” says Donghun.  “And you?” </p><p>“Marketing,” says Daryl.  His smile once again falters.  “I would have thought, I mean, that sounds pretty cool and all, but I somehow had you pegged as somebody in a more… high-powered job.  Like maybe pharmaceutical development or industrial engineering or something.” </p><p>“Why did you think I would be in something more… high-powered?” Donghun resists the urge to say that speaking with A-list celebrities daily is plenty high-powered. </p><p>“Well, you know, all those fields, it’s like they’re full of Chinese people these days.  I guess you have a really great educational system, or maybe it’s the whole Asian tiger mom thing, right?  Rarr!”  Daryl mimics a tiger claw as he laughs. </p><p>“I’m Korean,” says Donghun. </p><p>“Oh, sorry,” answers Daryl, but his voice doesn’t sound sorry at all.  “Either way, though, you’re all so smart – it’s a good thing!  Take it as a compliment.” </p><p>Donghun takes a sip of his Guaraná and comes to a decision. “Tell me about marketing,” he says, employing a low level – but still charming – fake smile. </p><p>“You don’t want to hear about my job,” says Daryl.  Donghun cranks up his smile level a notch, and he sees Daryl’s eyes flutter a bit.  “I mean, if you really want to hear about it…” </p><p>“Of course,” says Donghun.  “I am very interested in your career.”  He sighs, imbuing his breath with as much regret as possible.  “But it’s so noisy here.  We should go elsewhere.” </p><p>“Do you want to go back to my place?” asks Daryl.  </p><p><em>Bold.</em> </p><p>“Oh,” says Donghun.  “I am a bit of a romantic person.  Would you like to see the sunset with me?  We should go to Stone Mountain and see it from the top of the mountain.” </p><p>Daryl furrows his brow.  “But that’s… that’s, like, well over an hour’s drive away!” </p><p>Donghun pouts a little.  “It is probably less than that.  The main traffic rush hour has passed. And it will be so beautiful.” He brings the smile back, cranked even higher.  </p><p>“Well…” Daryl is nearly convinced. </p><p>Donghun sighs delicately. “I would really enjoy doing this with you.  Seeing the sunset very much inflames the hearts of Asians.  Because we live on the east side of a continent, seeing the sun set in the west is an unusual and moving experience for us.  It… it always arouses a certain passion within me.”  </p><p>This is it.  Now or never.  Donghun pulls out The Showstopper of a smile. </p><p>Daryl is already reaching for his car keys. </p><p> </p><p>In the parking lot, Donghun casts a coy glance at Daryl.  “I will have to stop for gas along the way.  It would be very romantic to me if you climb to the top of the mountain and are already waiting for me there when I arrive.” </p><p>Daryl nods, eyes glazed. </p><p>Donghun winks at him and gets into his own car. </p><p>Daryl’s tires screech a little bit in his haste to get out of the parking lot and onto the road, driving toward Stone Mountain.</p><p> </p><p>Donghun sits in his car for a few minutes, head pressed against the window.  He then exits the car, walks back into the Brazilian buffet, and gives them additional tip money. </p><p>“Why…?” The girl at the counter is a picture of confusion. </p><p>“I am sorry you had to deal with the asshole.  He is not my friend,” explains Donghun.  “I will return.  Without him.” </p><p>The girl grins broadly and explains to her coworkers in delighted, rapid-fire Portuguese.   They prepare him a complimentary takeout box of the small cheese breads and toss in a free can of Guaraná, as well.</p><p> </p><p>Brazilians, Donghun concludes, are alright. </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p><em>Sehyoon broke up with Seoyeon.  He was the first person I visited when they let me off base for leave this last time, and he told me he wanted me to be the first to know.</em>  There’s no further detail in Byeongkwan’s letter, but the very absence of further detail tells Donghun everything he needs to know. </p><p><em>Good luck!</em> he writes back.  <em>I would tell you to take it slowly, but fuck it – time is precious.  Don’t just dance around each other in circles forever.  Either you two work it out, or you can process it and move on.</em> </p><p>It sounds like good advice.  It sounds reasonable and upbeat.  It sounds like Donghun isn’t, himself, drowning – fingertip by fingertip, tooth by tooth, in an invisible fog of longing and depression.</p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p>Scott and Clarice adopt Donghun for Thanksgiving.  “If you spend the holiday with your friends instead of family, some people call it ‘Friendsgiving,’” Clarice says, “But you’re family to us, now.  So let’s just stick to calling it Thanksgiving!” </p><p>At Thanksgiving dinner, Donghun learns that it is possible to stuff a chicken, duck, and turkey all inside each other.  This, he concludes eventually, is a perfect example of an interesting idea that should have stayed in the idea column, not the actually-trying-it category. </p><p>The pies, though.  The pies are pretty great. </p><p>Groaning on the sofa, approaching comatose from overeating, Donghun has a brief flashback to his first day in the city and the brunch that nearly killed him. </p><p>And his brain, his traitorous, traitorous brain, reminds him that the day of that brunch was also the last day Junhee texted him. </p><p>Now he <em>really</em> feels like puking. </p><p> </p><p>_____ </p><p> </p><p>The old year passes its reins to the new, and with the change, Atlanta becomes a chilly, rainy mess. </p><p>Today, Donghun is in a foul mood when he gets to work, having had one too many unpleasant encounters with the city’s drivers turning completely irrational, driving in the rain. </p><p>He sits down at his desk with the following day’s arrival reports, combing the names for anything that needs special attention today.  He makes it partway through the packet before his eyes fall on a line that makes his every organ turn to electrified gelatin.  </p><p><strong>Guest Name</strong> /// <strong>Notes</strong><br/>
<em>Kang, Yuchan</em> /// <em>Manager of Park, Junhee [see additional notes]</em> </p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>NO. </p><p> </p><p>He flips from the K surnames to the P section. </p><p><strong>Guest Name</strong> /// <strong>Notes</strong><br/>
<em>Park, Junhee</em> /// <em>South Korean singer.  Rider on file. [see additional notes]</em>  </p><p> </p><p>Donghun stands up from his desk.  He walks to the lobby and checks that the agents and concierge are fine without him, then tells them that he’s going on break.</p><p>He enters the small meeting room behind the front office’s staff area and closes the door behind him.  He sits on the floor in the dark, totally silent, until his break is over.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am not ready to cry, A.C.E.  Don't you do it to us.  These teasers have me on the edge of my seat. </p><p>... oh, oh wait.  That's just my cat edging me off the desk chair. </p><p>BUT STILL.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Grab a mug of tea and hold onto yer butts; this chapter's a bit on the long side.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott asks Donghun whether he’s okay three times, over dinner, and it occurs to Donghun that he could easily call in sick for the rest of the week.  His roommate would happily vouch for the fact that he doesn’t seem to be feeling well.  Not that anybody would doubt him anyway; he’s not called in sick once, not in the eleven months he’s worked at The Pearl Odette, Atlanta. </p>
<p>In fact, maybe Junhee would prefer it if he didn’t show up.  </p>
<p>Donghun imagines the scene now: an innocent, friendly front desk agent checks in <em>Junhee Park, South Korean singer, rider on file.</em></p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Agent: Hello, Mr. Park!  Welcome to Atlanta!  How was your flight from Seoul? </p>
  <p>Junhee: Fine, thank you. </p>
  <p>Agent: [tip-tapping away, creating room key] It’s a shame that our Assistant Manager called out sick for the exact same length of time that you’re staying with us.  He’s from South Korea, too!  His name is Donghun.  He could have checked you in using Korean! </p>
  <p>Junhee: [Speaking in Korean with his manager, Kang Yuchan] <em>What are they saying?</em> </p>
  <p>Kang Yuchan [probably a gray-haired tour veteran, hired for his extensive English skills]: <em>For some reason they think all Koreans know each other.  Apparently some guy named Donghun works here, but he called out sick for three days.</em></p>
  <p>Junhee: <em>Oh, I actually know the guy.  He pretended to be a decent person, but in the end he was the worst person imaginable.</em> </p>
  <p>Kang Yuchan: <em>You know and dislike him?  Don’t worry!  With my decades of experience and connections, I’ll make sure his life is a living hell when he returns to Korea!</em> </p>
  <p>Junhee: <em>Perfect!  Please do so, Manager-nim.  He’s an idiot, a jerk, and worst of all – poor!</em></p>
  <p>[They laugh.]</p>
  <p>Agent: Um… sirs?  We have you in rooms 805 and 806.  Would you like assistance with your bags?<br/></p>
</blockquote>_____<p>Fuck. </p>
<p>Donghun needs advice, and he doesn’t feel like spilling the story to any of his newfound Atlanta friends.  Besides, his English has improved tremendously, but expressing intimate, relationship-related details… No matter how hard it might be talking about all of it in Korean, it would be infinitely worse in English.</p>
<p>What he wants – <em>whom he wants</em> – is Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>In Byeongkwan’s absence, Donghun decides to do something risky. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Hi!  What time is it there?</em>
</p>
<p>He gets an answer almost immediately.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Sehyoon</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Donghun, hi!  It’s nearly 8:00 in the morning</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Sehyoon</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Why, what’s up?</em>
</p>
<p>Donghun takes a deep breath. </p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I know this is really random, but do you maybe have time for a phone call?</em>
</p>
<p>Does that make it sound like some crazy thing has happened?  It’s nothing crazy.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>There’s nothing crazy, I just could use some advice</em> </p>
<p>Almost as soon as he hits SEND, his phone rings. </p>
<p>“Hi Donghun!” Sehyoon’s voice is just as warm and kind as Donghun remembers.  “I’ve always wanted to try the free international calls on this app.”</p>
<p>“Hi!” Donghun pauses.  Now that he has Sehyoon on the line, the prospect of spilling his guts to the valet seems crazy. </p>
<p>“You okay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” says Donghun.  “How’re you?”  </p>
<p>“Pretty great.  I was going to text you today, actually – to let you know Kwannie is going to be home on leave next week.  If you’d rather talk to him then…”  </p>
<p>God, no wonder Byeongkwan is smitten.  Sehyoon really is that considerate.</p>
<p>Donghun sighs.  “Well.  It’s kind of urgent, I guess.  Or not, like, <em>urgent</em> urgent, like nobody’s sick or anything.  Ugh.  Okay, so what it is… I don’t know if Byeongkwan has mentioned it, or why he would’ve even mentioned it, but do you remember meeting a guy named Park Junhee?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, of course.  The singer, the one you ghosted.  Yeah, he told me.” </p>
<p>“I almost want to be mad at him, for sharing something so private with a friend of his.  But now that he has, it’ll make explaining this easier.”  Donghun takes a deep breath. </p>
<p>“Well,” Sehyoon cuts in, “If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t share anything private with a friend.” </p>
<p>“But you just – <em>OH.</em>” The lightbulb goes off in Donghun’s head.  “So you’re more than friends, now?  Congratulations.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Sehyoon smiles; Donghun can hear the smile clearly, from halfway around the globe.  “Byeongkwan is a hell of a guy.  I thought I’d be the one supporting him throughout his enlistment, but instead, he’s been supporting me.  He listened to me complain about a thoroughly dead relationship for months, never once pressuring me to act on the knowledge that he had a crush on me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Donghun.  “He’s pretty special.  I honestly wasn’t even sure whether you were straight or bi or what, so I was a little worried for him.  Glad it’s working out.”</p>
<p>“Well, I wasn’t really sure myself, to be honest.  But we talked it out. He was patient, and we just kept the lines of communication open.  Even when I had to take breaks sometimes to think about it alone, he never resented it and was always happy to talk about it, later.”</p>
<p>Donghun hadn’t thought he could feel any guiltier about the way he left Junhee hanging, but somehow it’s happening.  “Well, that’s… okay.  Imagine if you weren’t the Kim Sehyoon you are, and instead you were kind of a dick sometimes.  And you didn’t know what to tell Byeongkwan, because it was all a bit complicated.”</p>
<p>“Okay…” </p>
<p>“And so you just, like… didn’t talk to him – for an inappropriately long stretch of time.  Would you eventually be able to talk to him again?  Could you?  Should you, if the opportunity arose?” </p>
<p>“I would,” says Sehyoon.  “I could, and I should – so I would.  Because even when we weren’t dating – even if <em>you’re</em> not dating, leaving things unresolved is like… it’s like never putting the lid back on the box of horrors.” </p>
<p>“Wait, in the story of Pandora’s box, doesn’t she trap HOPE inside when she closes the box back up?” </p>
<p>Sehyoon laughs.  “Greek mythology is fun and all, but I may have gotten the details wrong.  But Donghun, you should talk to him.  Whether he still cares about you in any way, he deserves answers.  And you deserve to be free from the guilt I suspect you feel every day.” </p>
<p>
  <em>Damn. </em>
</p>
<p>“Do I?” Donghun whispers. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Sehyoon.  “You do.” </p>
<p>Donghun clears his throat, trying to chase away the irritating way it’s clenching up on him.  “Okay.” </p>
<p>“Mmm.  I was going to ask why this is suddenly so urgent after, what, almost a year since you moved, right?  But then I remembered that Park Junhee is on another global tour, and it all clicked.  I’m guessing he’s going to be in Atlanta.” </p>
<p>Donghun is a bit surprised.  “You keep up with his tours?” </p>
<p>“Not intentionally, although he’s a great singer.  But it’s all over the entertainment news here – how he’s become one of the most successful solo Korean singers ever, in terms of international sales.  Having two global tours like this is headline news in these parts.  And this one has even more stops than the last one.” </p>
<p>Including Atlanta, apparently. </p>
<p>Donghun feels properly dizzy now. “Okay.  Well… thank you so much, Sehyoon.  Sorry to bother you.” </p>
<p>“Not at all.  Call any time.  It’s kind of fun knowing it’s nighttime there when it’s daytime here, and we’re talking on the phone at the same time… like it’s all totally normal, and not something utterly magical.” </p>
<p>Donghun sighs.  “I need more of your outlook on life.  Let’s stay in better touch, okay?” </p>
<p>“Absolutely.” Sehyoon’s warm smile is again audible through the phone connection.  Donghun feels a rush of homesickness.</p>
<p>“Hey, Sehyoon?” he says, before the valet driver can hang up.  “Give my love to Kwannie’s parents, okay?”</p>
<p>“Will do.”  Somehow, the smile sounds even stronger now.  </p>
<p>The knot in Donghun’s throat feels larger than ever as he hangs up the call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe it is better to face Junhee.  <em>But… </em></p>
<p>Donghun has just about talked himself into staying away from work the next few days when he has a sudden realization:  Sehyoon is going to tell Byeongkwan about this phone call.  </p>
<p>And if Byeongkwan learns that Donghun skipped out on talking to Junhee yet again, Donghun might lose his best friend’s respect forever. </p>
<p>He groans and stands up.  Time to pick an outfit for tomorrow.  Some kind of work ensemble suitable for meeting the man you ghosted for no easily explainable reason.  A man who is now apparently, as Sehyoon said, one of the most successful Korean solo singers ever. </p>
<p><em>Great.</em>   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do we have flight details for Mr. Park?” asks Donghun. </p>
<p>“Oh, yeah!” says Anna, the agent on duty this morning.  She’s perky as always, ponytail swishing happily after her enthusiastic nodding.  “The Korean singer!  Craig and I looked him up.  He’s really hot!”</p>
<p>Craig, the concierge, looks up from his desk and flashes them two thumbs up. </p>
<p>“What time is he getting in?” Donghun asks.  </p>
<p>“Um…” Anna pokes through the reservation notes.  “Well, his flight already got in a while ago.  He’s probably getting here in the next half an hour, if they don’t stop anywhere.  Don’t tell me you’re going to try to get an autograph, Donghun!” </p>
<p>Donghun has almost adjusted to the markedly more casual nature of American hotel employee interactions, compared to those in Korea, but this still catches him by surprise.</p>
<p>“No.  No, I will not be asking for an autograph,” he tells Anna. </p>
<p>She looks a bit chastened, but a grin peeks through.  “Aw, I’m just kidding.  Well, you’ll see what I mean.  I’m telling you, he’s one fine man.” </p>
<p>“Did you want to go on break early?” asks Donghun. </p>
<p>“And miss this guy?  No way!” says Anna. </p>
<p>Donghun shrugs.  “Okay.”  He hesitates.  Any additional lingering in the lobby, on a weekday morning – when the agents know he has a lot of paperwork to complete – will be suspicious.  “Well, I will be at my desk in the back office.  If you need anything, let me know.” </p>
<p>“You got it, boss,” says Anna, eyes sparkling.  Even Craig chuckles at her. </p>
<p>Donghun sits down and takes a deep breath.  He decides that he will not simply stare at the lobby security camera feed, on the screen by his desk.  He will not; <em>he will not.</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he does. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>About fifteen minutes later, the absolutely unmistakable image of Park Junhee rounds the corner of the entrance into the lobby, pulling a rolling suitcase behind him.  He’s accompanied by a man much younger than Donghun had imagined. </p>
<p>He watches Anna check them in, wishing – not for the first time – that this screen had sound, like the master camera monitors in the basement security office. </p>
<p>She bounces to the other side of her desk and offers room keys to Junhee and the other man, who must be Kang Yuchan.  They accept the keys gracefully, body language polite in a way that makes Donghun yearn for home, then drag their suitcases to the elevator and disappear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Somehow, Donghun forces himself to concentrate on his array of paperwork until it’s time for Anna’s break. </p>
<p>He walks back to the lobby, and Anna beams at him.  “The singer checked in!  And he’s so friendly!  His manager is really cute, too.  They’re both so nice.  It was really funny, though.  Mr. Park asked whether we had any Koreans working here, and when I told him my boss was Korean, he just smiled like the heavens had opened up or something.  His smile is even better in person than in the pictures Craig and I looked up earlier.”</p>
<p>“She’s not wrong!” Craig adds. </p>
<p>Anna continues her excited chatter.  “I guess since he’s on tour, he must be homesick, or maybe he just misses speaking Korean.  You should call him, Donghun!  Make sure everything’s all right with the room!  He’d like that, don’t you think?” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” says Donghun, trying to control his facial expression.  “Okay, it is time for your break!  They have pizza in the cafeteria today.” </p>
<p>“Awesome! Back in a bit!”  Anna’s swishing ponytail follows her out of the lobby. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun stares at the phone, trying to decide whether to call up to Junhee’s room.  The gentle ding of an arriving elevator interrupts his decision-making.  There, approaching the front desk, looking – what was it Anna had said? looking like <em>one fine man</em> – is Park Junhee. </p>
<p>“Donghun!” he says, smiling a touch nervously – and Craig’s gasp echoes throughout the lobby. </p>
<p>“You two know each other?”  the concierge asks. Junhee stops a little awkwardly, halfway across the lobby floor, and the three men just look at each other in turn. </p>
<p>“Yes?” Donghun finally says, trying not to wince.</p>
<p>Craig is an experienced concierge.  He has dealt with all sorts of guests and all sorts of situations for many, many years.  He’s fielded requests for personal chefs, drugs, private detectives, and prostitutes.  Craig has seen the insides of every restaurant, bar, and nightclub imaginable – and he has found a way to psychically peer into the insides of many a guest’s private thoughts, too.  Or at least that’s how it seems to Donghun, sometimes.</p>
<p>So it’s not a huge surprise when Craig’s face shifts to something slightly more understanding.  “Donghun,” he says.  “Anna is coming back from break in a few minutes.  I could hold the fort, here, if you wanted to vamoose for a bit.” </p>
<p>Junhee looks a little puzzled and turns to Donghun for a translation. </p>
<p>“Did you want to maybe grab a coffee in the hotel lounge?” asks Donghun in Korean. </p>
<p>“Yeah, that would be great.”  Junhee still looks a little nervous, but the smile Donghun remembers, the smile that makes his eyes go all twinkly and effervescent… it still lights up his face. </p>
<p>Donghun nods at Craig.  “Thank you.  Come get me if you need anything.  We will be in the lounge, okay?” </p>
<p>“Sure thing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun spends precious little time in his own hotel’s lounge and restaurant.  He sleeps in the hotel rooms sometimes, whenever he’s got an unusually long and late-finishing shift, but pausing for a coffee just isn’t on the usual docket. </p>
<p>This really isn’t how he imagined he’d finally spend some time here. </p>
<p>Donghun chooses one of the circular booths, upholstered in plush, taupe fabric, in the quieter corner of the lounge.  As soon as they’ve settled into the seating, the server arrives to take their order. </p>
<p>She leaves, and suddenly Donghun doesn’t know how to proceed. </p>
<p>But Junhee smiles.  “No crazy nannies today?” </p>
<p>Donghun scoffs.  “No Lamborghinis crashed in the parking garage, either.” </p>
<p>“What a boring day for you so far.” </p>
<p>“Entirely!” says Donghun, a smile creeping into his own expression.  “The most boring.  If only a long-lost friend of mine could show up and really make things interesting.” </p>
<p>Junhee looks thoughtful for a second, then shakes his head slightly before proceeding, as if to clear a thought from his mind.  “You look well, Donghun.  Are you doing well?” </p>
<p><em>No.  I’m doing terribly.  I’m suffering every day, hollow and lost and feeling like a puppet bound to some master I can’t even identify, but I suspect it’s just me, fucking myself over day after day, because that’s all I know how to do.</em> </p>
<p>“I’m doing well,” says Donghun.  “And you?” </p>
<p>“Ummm, professionally, I’m doing well.” </p>
<p><em>I’ll bet,</em> thinks Donghun.</p>
<p>“But… yeah, I don’t know.  You know, it’s not always an easy yes or no.  Doing well, not doing well.  Feeling healthy and happy, or feeling… well, whatever the opposites are.” </p>
<p>Donghun permits himself a small grin.  “Is the opposite whatever it feels like to have visited over a dozen cities on tour, already?” </p>
<p>Junhee relaxes into the booth.  “Yeah, kinda.  It’s so rewarding, Donghun.  You can’t even imagine.  The fans here are just as kind and welcoming as those back home.  I think maybe love and support are universal.  But it’s still so, so exhausting.”</p>
<p>The server arrives with their drinks, and Junhee tells her, “Thank you!” in English. </p>
<p>“Your accent is getting really good!” says Donghun, after she’s gone, and they’ve switched back to Korean.  “Listen to that ‘th’ sound!” </p>
<p>“Do you think so?” Junhee looks at him with an undivided, earnest desire for his opinion, which Donghun isn’t sure he’s seen on anyone’s face since… well, since he left Korea. And Junhee. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Donghun.  “I think so.” </p>
<p>“How was adjusting to the language and culture for you?” Junhee asks, putting his chin into his hand, looking across the table as if every atom of his attention deserves to be on Donghun.</p>
<p>And so… somehow… Donghun tells him.  Not all of it – not the disastrous date with Daryl, not the crushing feeling of never quite fitting into the welcoming space the Atlantans have tried to carve out for him.  But most of it.  His gregarious, redheaded roommate, his roommate’s kind girlfriend, the trials of the phrase, “You good…”</p>
<p>“Wait, what?” Junhee laughs.  “What do you mean?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Donghun. “In English, or in Atlanta anyway, <em>you good</em> can mean almost anything.  As a question, it’s ‘Are you alright?’ – but it could also mean, ‘Are you hurt?’ Unless the person is offering something, in which case it means ‘Do you have enough?’ And without the question inflection, it could mean, ‘Stop complaining; everything is fine’… but then it could also mean, ‘You do not need to pay,’ or even ‘I accept your apology.’  Oh, and it can also mean, ‘There is nothing on your face, you do not need to worry.’” </p>
<p>“You must be making this up!” Junhee’s laughter is clear and beautiful, and Donghun wants to bottle it forever. </p>
<p>“I am not!  I’m serious; it can mean even more things, but I haven’t learned the full inventory yet!” Donghun finds himself laughing, too.  Why is Junhee <em>still</em> so easy to talk to?  </p>
<p>He suddenly realizes that Anna and Craig are still alone at the check-in desk.  No doubt they’ve been gossiping and speculating, but that’s a worry for another time. </p>
<p>“Did you want to really catch up?” asks Donghun.  “I have to go, but… we could maybe get dinner?  I have no idea how busy your itinerary is.” </p>
<p><em>Or whether you’d want to spend any time with me.</em> </p>
<p>“This is actually a slightly longer stop for me,” says Junhee.  “I’ve got about a day and a half of rest time, which is pretty unusual on this tour.  So, sure.”</p>
<p>“I’ll…” Donghun winces.  “I’ll text you?” </p>
<p>Junhee’s laugh is a little sharp, but genuine.  “Will you, though?” </p>
<p>“I deserved that.” Donghun grimaces. </p>
<p>“But sure, yeah.  Text me, Donghun, okay?”  Junhee’s earnest look is back.</p>
<p>“I will.”  Donghun feels his cheeks go tingly.</p>
<p>They stand up to leave.  Donghun motions at the server, indicating that she can put it on the front office departmental account. </p>
<p>Donghun isn’t sure whether to hug or handshake Junhee goodbye at the bottom of the elevator, but the singer simply gives him a small smile, nodding his head slightly before stepping inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anna is nearly beside herself with barely-contained excitement, ponytail quivering.  “I can’t believe you know Junhee Park!” </p>
<p>“Oh, not very well,” says Donghun.  “I only knew him for a few months before I left Korea.  It was before he was very famous.” </p>
<p>Anna clasps her hands over her collarbones.  “Well, if he’s looking for an American girlfriend, you can put in a good word for me, right?” </p>
<p>Donghun grins.  “If he is looking for an American girlfriend, I will not let him steal one of my best front desk agents, okay?”</p>
<p>She laughs.  “You’re just saying that because I dealt with the 15th floor weed cloud situation last week.”</p>
<p>“Well, I still appreciate that.” Donghun chats with her about other hotel matters for a bit before excusing himself to go back to his paperwork. </p>
<p>Before he walks through the door to the back office, he meets eyes with Craig. </p>
<p><em>Thank you for not telling her what you figured out,</em> he hopes his look says. </p>
<p><em>I totally get it,</em> Craig’s eyes seem to respond.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun feels a rush of gratitude for hotel staff kinship, crossing cultural boundaries. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It feels a little strange jumping from the last text message on his screen to the one he’s about to send, but Donghun holds his breath and taps the sending icon.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>What are you in the mood for, tonight?  Traditional southern USA food?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Honestly, I really miss Korean food.  Isn’t that dumb? But I’m guessing you don’t have much Korean food here anyway</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Oh, you are actually in luck!  There’s a whole highway here known for Asian food, and a lot of it is Korean.  We can get real soondubu jjigae or pretty much whatever you want!</em> </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>Really???  The weather is so miserable. Soondubu jjigae sounds amazingly comforting</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Really!  I should be off work around 8 in the evening, unless any crises arise</em> </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>I know better than to assume those don’t happen, but we’ll cross our fingers.  8 o’clock!</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>If you don’t mind, I would really rather not deal with questions from the staff.  Would it be weird to ask you to meet me outside?</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong> is typing…</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun suddenly rethinks this request. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Wait, is that a security concern for you?  I am being weird and selfish, sorry</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Don’t be silly!  It’ll be fine!  My manager was a little weirded out by my wanting to go out alone tonight, but I think he’s also relieved to get some alone time himself.  I’ll meet you outside at 8, okay?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Great!  See you then.</em>  </p>
<p>Why is Junhee being so nice?  It makes Donghun’s stomach turn in on itself, and he’s not exactly sure why. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is so crazy,” says Junhee, closing the car door and fastening his seat belt. </p>
<p>“Sneaking out of a hotel with one of the staff members?” </p>
<p>“No,” says Junhee, “Seeing you drive!” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “I had my license in Korea, already!  I just couldn’t afford the car to go with it.” </p>
<p>“Looks like we’re both moving on up, then, huh?” </p>
<p>“Some of us more than others,” teases Donghun.  “I feel bad for not keeping up with your music, but apparently you’re doing really well with it.” </p>
<p>“Well, I got to do a collaboration with one of the popular idol groups.  My agency sent them the demo I’d recorded of a song I’d written, and we tweaked it to fit us both.  Honestly, without them, I don’t think I’d be on this tour right now.” </p>
<p>A sudden fit of curiosity overrides Donghun’s better judgment.  “Can I hear it?” he asks, merging onto the interstate highway. </p>
<p>Junhee hesitates.  “What, you want to hear the track?  I didn’t think you were all that into my music.” </p>
<p><em>No, I’ve just avoided it since I moved, because hearing it might break me.</em> </p>
<p>“I dunno, I’m kind of curious,” says Donghun. “This car has a Bluetooth connection.  I didn’t want anything fancy, but I guess it’s pretty much standard now.” </p>
<p>“Well… okay.” Junhee fumbles with his phone a bit.  Donghun probably imagines the slight hesitation, again.  “It’s called Slow Dive,” Junhee says, and hits play. </p>
<p>The song is heavily produced and yes – sounds a lot like an idol group song, but Junhee’s amazing voice sears its way into Donghun’s body.  And the lyrics are… </p>
<p>“Did you say you wrote this?” he asks. He almost misses his exit and has to change lanes quickly, making the turn just in time.</p>
<p>Junhee sighs, ever so slightly.  “I did.” </p>
<p>“It’s a good song,” says Donghun.  He decides not to mention the dark, desperate lyrics, full of longing and heartbreak. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dinner, as promised, is phenomenal.  It’s nothing fancy, just steaming bowls of spicy tofu soup, but it tastes just like home. </p>
<p>Junhee looks like he could cry.  “This is amazing, Donghun.  Thank you.” </p>
<p>“No, thank you for coming!  I honestly wasn’t sure you would, after…”  Donghun stops short, caught in the irony of being in the one place in Atlanta where they cannot speak freely in Korean, for fear of someone overhearing.  He suspects the servers have recognized Junhee, too. </p>
<p>Junhee looks at him quizzically, then laughs, apparently coming to the same conclusion.  “You want to talk outside?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Donghun. “Let me get dinner, I’m older.” </p>
<p>“Absolutely not. I’m paying,” says Junhee.  “I know you have your pride, and your self-reliance is one of your best qualities.  But it’s the least I can do, after you drove us out here.” </p>
<p>Junhee still has an opinion about Donghun’s best qualities?</p>
<p>Donghun nods, finally.  “Okay.  Thank you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air outside is foggy, little clouds of mist hinting at the city’s many previous days of rain.  The parking lot outside the restaurant is partially illuminated by yellow sodium lights.  It’s late and the lot is quiet, though the strip mall across the highway still seems quite busy.</p>
<p>Donghun parked in one of the dark patches.  He and Junhee now lean against his car, breathing in the chilly air and idly watching people in the distance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They don’t speak for what feels like an eternity. </p>
<p>“Why?” asks Junhee, at last.  Donghun doesn’t need him to elaborate. </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he says.  “I’ve asked myself the same question countless times.  Every answer I come up with sounds like an idiotic excuse.”</p>
<p>“Well, even an idiotic excuse would be better than nothing, Donghun.  Try me.  I want to hear your idiotic excuses.”  He sounds sincere. </p>
<p>Donghun looks him in the eyes.  “Are you sure?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Junhee.  “I’m sure.” </p>
<p>Donghun slumps against the car.  “Bear with me, because… it’s both the only thing I’ve thought of and the last thing I let myself think about, for almost a year now.  My thoughts are a little bit all over the place.”</p>
<p>“Okay, so I won’t expect an eloquent essay.  Noted.  Rambling poetry, stream of consciousness, interpretive dance… Whatever you’ve got, I’m all ears.” </p>
<p>Donghun manages a ghost of a laugh.  “So… I never intentionally decided to ignore you.” He pauses, realizing how stupid that sounds.  He wonders whether Junhee is going to make a snarky comment.  None comes, so he continues.  “Ever since I saw your name on a report at work and realized I would probably see you again, I’ve been trying to put myself back in that frame of mind, and I can’t.  I asked myself whether I was playing hard to get, you know… ‘Oh, one text?  He can send another if he really cares.’  But I really don’t think that was it.  I hope not, anyway.”  He stops to consider, and Junhee gives him a look, as if seeking permission to interrupt.  “Yeah?” </p>
<p>“I know you wouldn’t have done that, Donghun.  In the time that we spent together, you were never once manipulative.” </p>
<p>A peal of disbelieving laughter bursts out of Donghun.  “Are you serious?  My whole job is being manipulative.  Manipulative is what I <em>do.</em>  Didn’t I once tell you I chose my career specifically so I could wear a mask?  Junhee, I… I went on a terrible date, and I used an artificial smile to send him literally hiking up a mountain alone!” </p>
<p>Junhee’s mouth gapes.  “Okay, I want to hear more about that story.  But I stand by what I said.  You were never manipulative with me, and in my industry, that’s priceless.  Anyway, back to why you never responded, after I bared my soul to you and fell completely in love, not having any idea you would just…” </p>
<p>He says it as if it’s a foregone conclusion, as if love is a reasonable consequence of two months’ dating followed by a yearlong absence.</p>
<p>Donghun’s eyes are wide.  “I… you don’t mean that.” </p>
<p>Junhee looks frustrated with himself.  “Damn.  I didn’t mean to make this about me.  I won’t interrupt again.  Please just tell me.  Tell me whatever you can.  It doesn’t need to make sense.” </p>
<p>Donghun sees Junhee’s desperate eyes and hears the chorus of Slow Dive softly bouncing around his brain.  “Okay,” he says.  “Let me start over.  Sooooo… here’s the thing.  I have a lot of issues.  I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now, but I think maybe you don’t understand the magnitude.  You know that I haven’t spoken to my parents since I was a teenager.  Well, they never once reached out to me after I moved out.  I have one really good friend in the world, although now that I say that out loud I think it’s unfair to the people here, who have been nothing but amazing to me.” </p>
<p>“Aside from the guy you sent up a mountain.” </p>
<p>“Aside from him.  Asshole.  His dog was pretty cute, though.  We should steal the dog.” </p>
<p>“We?” asks Junhee. “I’m not saying no, just curious about the ‘we’ part, here.”</p>
<p>Donghun groans.  “How do we do this?  Now we’re talking about stealing a dog, and I still haven’t found an answer for you about why I was a total flake, when all I wanted was to talk to you and see you and hold you, every single day for eleven months.” </p>
<p>Junhee scoots his feet on the parking lot cement, leaning onto both Donghun and his car, now.  “Let me suggest that instead of you torturing yourself trying to sort through this… may I float some ideas?” </p>
<p>Donghun can barely process speech, feeling Junhee’s shoulder against his, but he manages.  “Sure.” </p>
<p>“I think two things are going on here.  One is that you really don’t think you deserve my love.  I know that sounds super conceited, like my love is some object I bestow from on high, but I don’t think about it like that at all.  But just now… tonight… I really think that’s part of it.  You undervalue yourself.”</p>
<p>Donghun pulls his coat tighter around his body and leans harder against Junhee.  </p>
<p>“And the other thing,” says the singer, “is that I think you’re afraid.  I really think maybe it’s that simple.  I think you and I have opposite problems.  I fell for you instantly.  I opened my hotel room door that one Chuseok and just knew I was fucked.” </p>
<p>Donghun swallows hard, in total disbelief at what he’s hearing. </p>
<p>Junhee shakes his head.  “But… to be honest, it’s not the first time.  I was in love with a girl – and I don’t mean a crush, I really loved her – and she absolutely devastated me.”</p>
<p>They stand quietly, watching the activity on the other side of the highway, until Donghun breaks the silence.  “Was Someone You Loved about her?” </p>
<p>“Yes,” says Junhee. </p>
<p>Donghun leans his head on Junhee’s shoulder.  </p>
<p>“Anyway,” continues the singer, “I think some part of me, the part of me that’s supposed to exercise caution and not just dive headfirst into love and attachment, is broken.  And so I do dive, and I get hurt, and then it fucking sucks.  Which is great for songwriting and all, but yeah, it sucks.”  His small laugh is a touch bitter.  “But you’re broken the opposite way.  You said you have issues, and I agree.  You’re afraid to love.” </p>
<p>Donghun lifts his head.  “How would you even know that?  What if we just didn’t have time?  What was I supposed to do, try to pursue a long-distance relationship from a different continent, knowing you’re in a totally different league?” </p>
<p>Junhee raises his eyebrows.  “You are such a mystery to me.  I never got the feeling that you were all that impressed or intimidated by my job, but then… yeah, you really mean what you’re saying, don’t you?  About being in different leagues?”</p>
<p>And it’s suddenly clearer to Donghun than it ever has been.  “Yeah,” he says.  “You’re not out of my league because you’re Park Junhee, famous singer.  You’re out of my league because you’re perfect.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He barely has time to catch his breath before Junhee’s lips are on his, kissing him with a ferocity he hasn’t experienced since the day he told Junhee he was moving to the USA.  Donghun returns the kiss – of <em>course</em> he returns the kiss – and he finds himself making out with the man of his dreams, leaning against his car in a dark parking lot.  He wants to swallow and be swallowed alive, lost to anything but the sensation of everything Junhee. </p>
<p>Eddies of fog and mist curl around them, which, Donghun thinks when he has a chance to open his eyes and breathe for a second, seems awfully like something out of a fantasy movie. </p>
<p>Junhee catches his breath.  “I would have kissed you like that even if we were in Korea,” he says. </p>
<p>Donghun hadn’t thought twice about it.  “Welcome to Atlanta.  It’s not perfect, but certain things are less risky here.” </p>
<p>They don’t stop kissing, tongues and hands aching and hungry, desperate breaths swirling in the fog, until after even the strip mall across the highway has quieted down. </p>
<p>Donghun reluctantly pulls back a bit.  “We should get you back to the hotel before your manager files a missing persons report.” </p>
<p>“He’ll be fine!  Fortunately, we’re not sharing rooms.  I feel bad for the idol groups that go on tour; I think they are kept under far stricter watch.” </p>
<p>“Your manager seems pretty young,” Donghun says, as they get back inside the car. </p>
<p>“Oh, he’s great.  He’s younger than I am, but he’s so sharp and energetic.  He’s sensible, you know?  But also fun.  I really couldn’t have asked for a better assistant, though he’s so much more than that.” </p>
<p>“Hrmm.” </p>
<p>“Actually, umm… I’d love to see you again tomorrow, but I don’t think I could get away with blowing Chan off again,” says Junhee.  “Would it be weird to ask if you want to meet him?  Do you work in the morning?” </p>
<p>Donghun considers this as he starts the car.  He pauses, hand on the steering wheel, and grins at Junhee.  “I don’t work tomorrow at all.  How would you feel about brunch?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. If you're interested in donating your time, energy, or financial resources to help Native American communities, <a href="https://www.diversitybestpractices.com/news-articles/top-native-american-organizations-to-know">this</a> list might be a good jumping-off point to find an organization that could use your help. </p>
<p>2. I saw that posting this chapter would push me over the limit of 100k words posted to AO3.  Whoo!  Because I'm a big nerd, I decided to see what my 100,000th word on AO3 would be.  Drumroll..... "cute" - spoken by Anna, to describe Chan!  How fitting!  I love it. </p>
<p>3. I cannot believe Chan himself hasn't yet graced these pages!  You all must think I'm such a tease;  I beg your forgiveness.  Next chapter.  I promise.  Pinky swear.</p>
<p>4. Thank you SO MUCH for all the kind comments so far.  Really, the feedback that readers are enjoying this fic and invested in its characters keeps me going.  I appreciate you all immensely.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donghun’s just getting ready to meet Junhee and Yuchan when his phone buzzes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I told Chan you’re an old friend I just happened to meet in the lobby, by coincidence</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>That’s actually fairly true, isn’t it?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Well…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>???</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Most of the tour staff are staying together at a different hotel, but I get a bit of say in my own hotel preferences these days… and I might have remembered you worked for The Pearl Odette</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Way to be creepy, but points for honesty I guess</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Didn’t you used to have me saved as “Truth Enthusiast” in your phone?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>[screenshot]</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Fine.  I’m creepy.  But you’re weird.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I wouldn’t dream of denying it.  Be there in 20 minutes; I’ll pull up to the main entrance</em>
</p>
<p>_____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chan is as bubbly and efficient as Junhee promised, nothing like the gruff, middle-aged man Donghun had imagined.  The young manager carries a tidy folio in addition to a tablet, and Donghun suspects that his cheerful smile belies a sharp mind. </p>
<p>On the drive to the brunch restaurant, Donghun learns that Chan spent several years in North America as a teenager.  They commiserate about the travails of the English language until Junhee teases them for showing off in front of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A bright winter sun has burnt off any remaining fog, and a line of hungry patrons already skirts the restaurant building, waiting for a table.  Donghun guides Junhee and Chan to the rear of the queue.</p>
<p>It’s only now, interacting with Chan and Junhee in Korean, that Donghun realizes how much more casually he’s started to approach conversations in general.  A year in Atlanta has begun to change him. </p>
<p>“How long have you been in Atlanta, Donghun-ssi?” asks Chan. </p>
<p>“Just under a year.  I can’t decide whether it feels like I’ve been here forever, or whether it feels like yesterday that I stepped out of the airport, praying all of that intensive preparation would be enough to see me through the job.” </p>
<p>“You know,” says Junhee, “When you told me you were moving to the USA, I did think to myself that your English skills weren’t the strongest.  But you’ve come so far!” </p>
<p>“Thank you!  It’s so much more than the language, though.  You just have to learn all these quirks about a place by experience, I think.  Like this building –” Donghun indicates the restaurant, “– it looks tiny, right?  But in addition to the restaurant area, which serves the most delicious chicken biscuits, by the way – they’ve squeezed in a thrift store area, with all sorts of fun vintage and collectible items.  How could you guess that this would be a thing, without coming here and seeing it firsthand?” </p>
<p>Junhee nods, and Chan suddenly looks excited.  “There’s a vintage thrift store?” he asks.  “Do you think they might have cameras?” </p>
<p>“You mean old photo cameras?  Yeah, that’s absolutely the kind of thing they have!” </p>
<p>Chan face is a perfect expression of delight. “Do you mind if I browse inside, while we wait for the table?  I don’t want to just abandon you two to wait outside without me…” </p>
<p>“Not at all, Chan-ssi!” says Donghun.  “The sun feels great after all the rain we’ve had.” </p>
<p>“Go poke around old cameras!” says Junhee.  “If you’re still gone by the time they seat us, we’ll come find you in the shop.” </p>
<p>Chan bounces into the building without a second glance, and suddenly Donghun is alone with Junhee again.  </p>
<p>They look at each other for a second, then break eye contact and giggle.  </p>
<p>“He’s alright, isn’t he?” asks Junhee.  “Kind of keeps me going when I feel my energy dwindling.”</p>
<p>“He’s alright,” agrees Donghun.  “Younger than I expected.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” admits Junhee. “But he does a great job, so I’m thankful to my agency for finding him.  The manager they assigned to me on my last tour was… not <em>bad,</em> but we just never clicked.  At this point, after God knows how many stops on this tour, I even talk to Chan about my personal life, like a friend.  I never would have said anything about that to the last guy.” </p>
<p>Donghun suddenly hesitates. “But… he doesn’t know about…?”  <em>Us.</em> </p>
<p>The line shuffles them a few feet closer to the restaurant.  Once they’re stationary again, Junhee leans against the railing on the walkway.  A man and woman, both wearing sunglasses, join the waitlist behind them.  Donghun smiles at them and says hello in English, then notices Junhee giving him a strange look. </p>
<p>“Oh, people here… they greet strangers,” he tells Junhee, switching back to Korean.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but they smiled and said hello back.”</p>
<p>“I did notice,” Junhee says.  “I can see why you like it here.” </p>
<p>“Do I?” Donghun realizes he’s never actually stopped to think about whether he <em>likes</em> the place, beyond trying to navigate life from day to day.</p>
<p>“Looks that way to me, anyway.”</p>
<p>They’re both quiet for a bit, and Donghun leans up against the railing next to Junhee.  He places his foot on a low rung so it rests gently against Junhee’s calf, their hips barely making contact through their clothes. </p>
<p>Jun exhales softly.  “To answer your earlier question… Chan pretty quickly figured out that my songs were a little more autobiographical than many people realize.  But no, he doesn’t specifically know that my heart was torn asunder by you, Lee Donghun, front desk agent extraordinaire.”  He holds his hands to his chest dramatically and tosses his head back with closed eyes. </p>
<p>Donghun laughs and shoves his arm with his own.  “Assistant Front Office Manager these days, good sir!  Anyway, you’re saying he’s not going to beat me up?” </p>
<p>“Only if you missed something on my hospitality rider!  He’s pretty detail-oriented when he needs to be.” </p>
<p>“Yours is among the less insane celebrity riders, don’t worry.”  Donghun suddenly blushes a bit.  “Sorry, maybe that’s weirdly personal, having a former…”</p>
<p>“Ex.  You’re my ex, Donghun – it’s okay to say it.”</p>
<p>“Fine.  So anyway, it might be weird knowing your ex reads your rider.  I can’t imagine many people find themselves in that situation.” </p>
<p>Junhee shrugs.  “Listen, you and I both know there’s nothing crazy on it.” He squints a bit, then lists the details on his fingers.  “No overpoweringly perfumed air fresheners or room sprays, don’t put me next to the elevator or anything too noisy, plenty of bottled water or a good water purifier for the tap, and make sure the lighting isn’t too harsh.  Dimmer switches are great.” </p>
<p>Donghun chuckles.  “You remember it all!  I’m impressed.  Plenty of our guests have no idea what their assistants even told us.  Sometimes they’re upset by details their own staff specified.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?”  A breeze picks up, and Junhee’s voice lifts with it, in amusement.  He runs a hand through his wind-ruffled hair, and Donghun’s answer catches in his throat.</p>
<p>Before Donghun recovers the power of speech, the line starts to move again.  They shuffle closer to the restaurant entrance – almost indoors, now.  The man waiting behind them in the queue, trying to talk to his date while walking, stumbles into Donghun – who falls slightly into Junhee’s quick arms. </p>
<p>Donghun straightens up quickly, a tiny prickle rising in his cheeks. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, y’all!” says the man from behind his sunglasses.  “You’re lucky he caught you so quick!” </p>
<p>“It’s okay, no problem,” says Donghun, English thick on his tongue after the morning’s easy Korean.  “And yes, I am lucky he is so quick!” </p>
<p>“I have to say,” adds the woman. “Y’all are such a cute couple.  How long have you two been together?” </p>
<p>“Oh, we’re not dating.” The tingle in Donghun’s cheeks increases. </p>
<p>“Are ya sure?” she laughs.  “Honey, aren’t they cute together?” </p>
<p>“Sure are!” agrees the man.</p>
<p>Chan exits the restaurant door, holding an old, brown camera with a faded price tag sticker.  He bounces back toward Donghun and Junhee. </p>
<p>“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a friend here with you!” says the woman.  “Well, just try not to make him feel like a third wheel on your date, you two.” </p>
<p>Both she and the man laugh good-naturedly.  </p>
<p>Chan looks at Donghun, then at Junhee, then back at Donghun. </p>
<p>Donghun swears that he sees a small shift in Chan’s expression. </p>
<p>For once – <em>for once</em> – fate pities Donghun, and the restaurant door swings open.  “Party of how many?” asks the host, interrupting the small silence. </p>
<p>“Three,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>“Great!  Follow me this way.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The restaurant is a hit.  Despite both men’s initial reluctance, they declare fried green tomatoes a success, and the famous gravy-covered chicken biscuits are as divine as Donghun remembered them.</p>
<p>For the first time, however, Donghun wishes his conversation with Junhee didn’t flow <em>quite</em> so easily.  The two of them effortlessly joke and spar – and occasionally follow each other down rambling conversational paths, until one of them suddenly notices Chan’s wide eyes.  They then jerk back to neutrality, including the manager in the topic at hand, before slowly slipping up and repeating the cycle. </p>
<p>By the time Donghun settles the check, he’s sure Chan must have pegged him as one of Junhee’s exes – and therefore as one source of stress and pain in the singer’s life. </p>
<p>He excuses himself to go to the restroom.  When he returns, Jun and Chan separate their huddled faces.</p>
<p>As they stand from the table, Chan asks, “Would you like to go to the show tonight?  I’m sure we can get you a comp ticket.” </p>
<p>And for the second time today, Donghun thinks fate smiles upon him.  He realizes just before he speaks that going to a Park Junhee concert might actually cause him to expire at a tragically young age.  “Thank you, but I can’t.  I’m working this evening,” he lies.  “But thank you so much for the offer.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drive to the hotel is cordial, but by the time Donghun drops his two guests back at the property, he realizes Junhee is being a little quiet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s only when he’s back home that he remembers he’d told Junhee he wasn’t working all day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott is nestled into the crook of their L-shaped sofa, watching an older movie.  Donghun thinks that it’s maybe a kids’ movie, but Scott is clearly enjoying it.  Donghun hears chuckles and “Dammit, Janet! I love you!” floating down the corridor, then finally stands up to join his roommate in their living room. </p>
<p>Scott recites lines from the movie, right along with the actors on the screen.  His laugh is honest, open, and unclouded.  </p>
<p>Donghun sits on the sofa next to him, and Scott reaches for the remote to pause the movie.  “You okay, my man?  I know you said you were feeling okay, but you’ve looked a little off the last few days.  It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” </p>
<p>“No,” says Donghun, “I don’t want to interrupt your movie.  I’m okay.” </p>
<p>Scott considers him thoughtfully.  “Hey, I was planning on heading out to my buddy’s lake house with Clarice and a few other folks tonight.  Do you work tomorrow?  Do you wanna come along?” </p>
<p>“No, thank you,” says Donghun, the thought of driving across the state – further, by any number of miles, from Junhee – suddenly intolerable.  “But thank you for the invitation!”</p>
<p>“If you don’t mind me asking,” Scott’s voice turns a little more serious. “When was the last time you had a vacation?” </p>
<p>Donghun thinks long enough that when he blinks, his glazed eyes feel dry under the blink.  “In Korea, before I moved.  I was on vacation from work, but I was attending English language courses.” </p>
<p>Scott looks scandalized.  “Donghun, that’s not a vacation!  Are you sure you don’t wanna come out to the lake tonight?”</p>
<p>Donghun is resolute.  “Yes.  Thank you very much for inviting me, but I would like to stay home.” </p>
<p>“Okayyy.” Scott looks unconvinced.  “We’re gonna have to get you a real vacation.  I’ll talk to Clarice.  Hang in there, buddy.” His face relaxes, and he laughs.  “Have a wild party while I’m gone tonight, okay?  When I get back tomorrow afternoon, I want the house to be just, like, littered with the evidence of beer pong and sweet-ass hookups.” </p>
<p>“I will see what I can do.” Donghun returns his smile.  “I’m sorry I interrupted your movie.” </p>
<p>“Oh, no worries, man!  I’ve seen it hundreds of times!” </p>
<p>Given how quickly Scott settles back to reciting the movie alongside the TV, Donghun doesn’t doubt this at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He makes it through a lone dinner at home before pulling out his phone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I’m sorry I didn’t go to your show.  I hope it was awesome!</em> </p>
<p>No answer appears – of course not, not when the man is probably on stage right now, in front of a thousand or more adoring faces. </p>
<p>Somehow the absence of an immediate reply feels freeing, and he finds himself tapping out another message.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>It felt like we made some sort of communication progress last night, and maybe even that is a bit scary</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I think it would hurt, somehow, or just be too much</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Seeing you on stage, I mean.</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I sort of go back and forth between wanting only to hear your singing and never wanting to hear it again</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Not because you’re not good, but because you are</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I’m sure you’ve read your own reviews, and you know what I’m talking about</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Emotions</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Feelings</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>And… feelings are scary</em>  </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Anyway, I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Exactly the opposite, I guess.</em>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He plugs his phone into the wall and stretches.  His shoulder pops, the sound a little louder than he feels is strictly necessary. </p>
<p>Maybe he <em>does</em> need a vacation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun takes an extra long, extra hot shower, feeling the nearly-scalding water trickle down his face and behind his ears.  It almost hurts; it’s perfect.</p>
<p>When his hands have turned to raisins and his feet are a deep pink, he finally gets out and dries himself, reflecting that he might never get used to the larger, American towels. </p>
<p>He’s tucked into his pajamas and settled cozily into bed when his phone buzzes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I am the grossest person ever, I am made of sweat, I am made of stage grime, there has only ever been sweat, what even is a human</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I’m warm and freshly-showered and cozy. Sucks to be you</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>why are you texting me late at night</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>what? you started it</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I was merely responding to your earlier texts</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Are you trying to make it sound like you had to respond, hours later, with telling me how sweaty you are?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Just like you felt the need to tell me how soft and freshly showered you are?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I never said soft</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>No, but I can imagine</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Is this a booty call text?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Who, you or me?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Either?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>This city has Uber, right?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Yes?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Why are we only talking in questions?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Because that’s who we are.  Questions, you and I.</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I see what you did there</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Sooo~ clever~</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I don’t appreciate your backtalk.  How’s your water pressure?  did you blow through all the hot water, and I’m going to be bathing and freezing?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Why wouldn’t you just shower at The Pearl Odette?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Better scenery at your place</em>
</p>
<p>Donghun laughs out loud.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>That’s the worst line you’ve ever used on me</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I don’t hear you saying no</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>This is the worst idea ever, for both of us</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Well, I have the excuse of post-show brain addling, what about you?</em>
</p>
<p>Donghun shifts underneath his blanket.</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>No excuse, I can take responsibility for my terrible decisions</em> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>[location pin drop]</em> </p>
<p>A thought occurs to him. </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>What about Chan?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>What about him?</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>You gonna tell him where you’re headed?</em> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>No, but I’m pretty sure he’s figured it out.  Good thing he’s younger than me.  He won’t say anything.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>This really is the worst idea ever</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>It absolutely is, and my Uber driver is on his way</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I’ll raise the portcullis, just for you</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun snaps out of the flirty texting haze and realizes that he is in bed, in pajamas, and as far from sexy as humanly possible.  At least his teeth are brushed, but everything else…?</p>
<p>He tries desperately to remember how far the venue of Junhee’s concert is from the house he shares with Scott.  Not far, he thinks.  Not much traffic this time of night, either. </p>
<p>He flings open his wardrobe and realizes he doesn’t have anything sexy to wear anyway, so he might as well just grab some sweats.  Saying a silent, mental apology to Byeongkwan for being so unfashionable, he puts on ratty gray sweatpants and a borderline dingy white tee. </p>
<p>His damp hair has been pressed a little out of shape by his pillow.  A knock on the door interrupts his attempts to fix the cowlick.</p>
<p>Donghun flings open the door to see a somewhat sweaty Junhee on his front porch, dodging the few brave, winter moths that flitter around the porchlight.  </p>
<p>“I’ve seen sweatier,” Donghun says, by way of greeting, as he steps aside to let Junhee into the house. </p>
<p>“I’ve seen better dressed for a hot date,” answers Junhee – the singer himself wearing what looks to be a very expensive, tailored black shirt.</p>
<p>“Did you bring a change of clothing?” </p>
<p>“I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Then after your shower, you’ll be wearing my terrible clothes, too, and be just as poorly dressed.”</p>
<p>Junhee laughs, the sound clear and bright.  “You’re right, this was the worst idea ever.”  He shakes his head, eyes twinkling in mischief.</p>
<p>Donghun’s insides feel like sparklers or electrified candy.  The sensation bubbles over into his brain.  He steps closer to Junhee and kisses him full on the lips, immediately tasting salt against his tongue. </p>
<p>“Gross, you’re all salty and sweaty,” he murmurs into Junhee’s mouth. </p>
<p>“I told you I was sweaty.  Just because it’s drying doesn’t mean it’s not there.” </p>
<p>Donghun kisses him again, pulling him in closer with clasped hands around his back.  </p>
<p>“It’s what I deserve for agreeing to the worst idea ever,” he eventually concludes, reluctantly releasing his grip on Junhee.  “But let me get you a towel and some toiletries.  You’ve got two exciting options!  Do you want to smell like me or my roommate?” </p>
<p>“I don’t mind either way, but are you sure you want to hook up with someone who smells like your roommate?” </p>
<p>“Point taken.” Donghun points out his own toiletries in the shower.  “It can already be the worst idea without being extra weird.” </p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t mean to listen in on Junhee’s shower, but the house is small – and Junhee’s singing voice is loud. For someone who just finished an entire solo show, his voice still sounds resonant and evocative, even over the sounds of the shower.</p>
<p>When Junhee emerges from the bathroom, like something from a cologne commercial – water dripping down his bangs onto cut-glass cheekbones – Donghun is momentarily riveted.  One of Donghun’s towels is wrapped loosely around Junhee’s waist, revealing every perfectly etched sinew on his abdomen. The singer’s body has become far more chiseled in the year Donghun has been absent from close contact with it.</p>
<p>“Umm,” says Donghun, enjoying only the partial use of his mental capacities.  “When… when did <em>that</em> happen?”  He nearly drops the clean clothing he’d picked out for Junhee.</p>
<p>“I started working out,” Junhee shrugs, mercifully not asking Donghun to explain his question further. </p>
<p>But then Junhee suddenly laughs, throwing his hair back.  Droplets fly from his bangs; one catches the corner of Donghun’s mouth, and the electric candy feeling in his stomach turns into sharp, cloud-to-cloud lightning. </p>
<p>“I had the most ridiculous idea that I could come over and maybe we’d just kiss and talk some more,” says Junhee.  “But now…”  He begins to unravel the towel, deliberately, slowly. </p>
<p>Donghun’s mind flashes an incredibly important reminder at him, and his groaning at Junhee’s striptease is magnified by the alert. </p>
<p>“Junhee,” he says, pressing his eyes shut, “I… haven’t been with anyone since I left Korea.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” Junhee’s voice is low and guttural.  “Neither have I.  For all I philosophized about falling for people too quickly, I haven’t actually been interested in a single soul since you left.” </p>
<p>“No, you don’t understand.” Donghun shakes his head, eyes still shut.  “I’m not… I don’t have supplies.” </p>
<p>There’s a beat of silence before Junhee’s golden laughter takes over the small corridor outside the bathroom door.  “This really was the worst idea ever.” </p>
<p>“And yet here we are,” says Donghun.  </p>
<p>He opens his eyes tentatively.  The way Junhee is now clasping the towel around his abs – abs visibly tensing with every breath of laughter – is almost <em>cute.</em>  All pretense at a striptease has been momentarily replaced by this vision of a lean, shower-fresh man, shielding himself from the absurdity of their predicament with one of Donghun’s softest, fluffiest towels. </p>
<p>Donghun’s heart skips at least one full beat before he speaks.  “I’m not saying there aren’t still fun ways we can spend this evening, but… would it be terrible and awkward if we went… you know… shopping?  Late at night?” </p>
<p>Junhee’s laughter becomes nearly hysterical.  “I mean, if we’re going to keep calling this the worst idea ever, we might as well just lean in.  Yes.  Yes, it would be terrible and awkward.  Let’s do it.  Let’s go fucking shopping in the middle of the night.  Fuck it.” </p>
<p>Donghun exhales and allows himself a small giggle. “Put these on,” he tells Junhee, handing over the stack of clothing.  “I’m going to do a quick search to make sure the store I’m thinking of is open late.  I’ve never been inside, but it looks like the right sort of place.” </p>
<p>He walks back to his room for his phone, sees (to his immense relief) that the store is open, and walks back to the small corridor by the bathroom.  </p>
<p>Junhee is now wearing Donghun’s second-oldest sweatpants, as well as his old red-and-black striped, long-sleeved tee.  </p>
<p>“Well,” says Junhee, “Now I look like you and smell like you.  What do you think?”</p>
<p><em>You’re perfect.</em> </p>
<p>“We should go before I can’t focus enough to drive any more.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The store is indeed open late.  Donghun and Junhee make wide eyes at each other as they encounter the window display: a silicone fist half a meter long, surrounded by a festive display of various brightly colored handcuffs and cock rings.</p>
<p>“You know how we said that your coming over to my place was the worst idea ever?”  Donghun asks. </p>
<p>“Mm?” </p>
<p>“It wasn’t.  Coming here was the worst idea ever.” </p>
<p>“Listen to you now!  Just this morning, you were all, ‘Oh, yes, I’ve learned all of this city’s quirks.  Atlanta and I are now good friends.’ Well, time to learn a new side of your new friend.” </p>
<p>Donghun huffs but steps inside the store.  He quickly finds the lube and condoms, Junhee trailing along behind him, varyingly amused and entranced by various product displays. </p>
<p>The nearly-asleep clerk rings up Donghun, who turns around to see Junhee holding something tightly to his chest and grinning madly into the store’s pink lighting. </p>
<p>“What’s that?” </p>
<p>“A surprise.”  Junhee has never looked more mischievous, eyes at full crinkle. </p>
<p>Donghun sighs.  “Fine.  I’ll go wait in the car.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they make it back inside the front door, Donghun is in a muddled state of sleepiness and titillation, his confusion compounded by seeing Junhee in his own cozy sweats and t-shirt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they make it down the corridor and into Donghun’s bedroom, the sleepiness has fully given way to the arousal, evaporated by the intensity of Junhee’s physical presence in this private space. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time Junhee reveals his purchase (a beautiful set of satin-covered handcuffs), the electric shocks have returned to Donghun’s insides, coiled and jolting him from stomach to toe, from the aching between his legs to the tickle at the back of his throat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they’ve fallen asleep, woken each other up again – neither will take the blame – and Junhee is enthusiastically nibbling on the skin between his thumb and forefinger, Donghun finally crystallizes the question that’s been building in his mind all evening. </p>
<p>“Is this the worst idea because random hookups with exes are just inherently debasing, since we don’t actually mean anything to each other?  Or… is it because it keeps us from moving on from each other?” </p>
<p>Junhee stops his mouthing long enough to speak.  “If I really don’t mean anything to you, at least lie to me until the day after tomorrow, okay?” </p>
<p>Donghun kisses Junhee’s temple.  “You mean something to me.  But right now…” Junhee’s fingers are pressing into Donghun’s hips.  “Right now, I can’t think about this after all.  We can talk about it later.” </p>
<p>“Such progress!  So communicative, for someone who ghosted me!” smirks Junhee. </p>
<p>Donghun decides Junhee might benefit from being handcuffed after all.</p>
<p><em>Hrmph.</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Junhee has a radio appearance the next day, with Chan serving as interpreter.  </p>
<p>The only radio Donghun owns is the one attached to his car.  He hopes his neighbors won’t think he’s crazy for sitting in his car, in the driveway, for an hour.</p>
<p>The radio host asks friendly and interested questions; it’s clear that she’s listened to Junhee’s music and is genuinely curious about his answers.</p>
<p>They get through several rounds of typical interview material – Junhee’s history as a singer, how he’s liking the tour, his favorite and least favorite things about the USA, and so on. </p>
<p>“Is there anything special about Atlanta?” she asks. </p>
<p>“A person,” Junhee says in Korean. </p>
<p>“The people,” Chan translates into English. </p>
<p>“Aww,” says the host.  “That’s so great!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun eases his seat back in the car and puts his arm over his tired eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Friends don't let friends shy away from fried green tomatoes.  &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[and sometimes we wince as we hit the "Add Chapter" button...]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night before Junhee’s departure from Atlanta, his agency has arranged for some behind-the-scenes filming around the city.  Junhee sends Donghun snapshots from many of the locations, making him feel like a newcomer to Atlanta all over again.  </p>
<p>Junhee sends him a somewhat terrified-looking selca from the top of the giant Ferris wheel downtown.  Just looking at the picture gives Donghun a faint flutter of nausea, despite having no particular fear of heights. </p>
<p>He decides not to entertain the possibility that the nausea is due to imagining himself with Junhee, riding Ferris wheels and exploring cities at night – together, the way couples do. </p>
<p>No.  </p>
<p>It must be something he ate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Great view!</em> </p>
<p>He doesn’t make the joke about the city looking nice, too.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Are you going to be around tomorrow morning?  We’ll probably check out around 10:00, after breakfast.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I’m sorry. I have to attend a meeting in the morning.  Don’t think I can skip it</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Definitely don’t skip a meeting, just to say bye</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>I wish I could, it’s not like this meeting will cover anything important anyway.</em>  </p>
<p>He stops to consider, then continues tapping at his phone.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>The highlights of these particular weekly meetings are usually the coffee and pastries, and certain recent events have led me to reflect on the state of my non-existent abs.  Maybe fewer pastries would be good</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Yeah, I definitely must have given you the impression that I minded your body</em>
</p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Oh, man.  Are you sure you want to go down this line of texting while you’re surrounded by staff and cameras?</em> </p>
<p><strong>Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee</strong><br/><em>You started it! But you’re not wrong.  Okay, well.  I’ll talk to you later…?</em> </p>
<p>Donghun understands the question hidden within the question.  He feels a slight clenching in his upper chest and exhales deeply, trying to pull his shoulders away from his ears. </p>
<p><strong>Donghun</strong><br/><em>Talk to you later.  Good night!</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Park left something for you,” says Craig, the next day.  “At checkout.  He and his manager had already rolled their suitcases out to the front, but then he came back in and gave me this envelope, to give to you.”  The concierge doesn’t raise his eyebrows, smirk, or in any way hint that he would like to know the contents of the envelope.  Donghun almost hugs him in appreciation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, he clicks on his desk lamp at home and opens the envelope. The letter within is handwritten, the writing dense and slightly upward sloped. It’s written across many pages of small hotel letterpad paper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Donghun – </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I didn’t want to text this to you.  It just wouldn’t feel right.  I could call, but I know how people are – how I am anyway, and if you’re anything like me, you would then try to replay the conversation forever, picking apart the details, trying to remember exactly what I said and meant.  Here it is in writing, so that you don’t have to wonder or doubt your memory. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I meant it when I said I love you.  I would keep a candle burning forever for you, but I’m not blind.  I know you don’t feel the same way.  The hopeful part of me adds “not yet” to the sentence, but I’m not psychic, so I don’t know whether that’s accurate. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I realized last night, wandering around Atlanta in your cold, beautiful city, surrounded by helpful staff who suddenly felt like strangers, that I would give it all up if that’s what it took to be with one occasionally grumpy, occasionally savage, but always fair hotel employee who treated me right when the rest of my world did not. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The fact that you’re fucking gorgeous and have an incredible, sharp sense of humor probably doesn’t hurt, but we’ll leave all that aside for now. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Saying all that, I do have some instincts for self-preservation.  Maybe they’re underdeveloped, but they’re there. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So I have a request.  If, at any point in time, whether it’s right now as you read this, or months or years later… if you realize that you will never be able to meet me where I am and give actually being together a try, please tell me.  Show me that you have that much respect for me, even if our feelings don’t align.  Let me go, and I won’t bother you again. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Until that time, I’ll keep the flame lit.  Maybe it’s silly, but I really think the strength of my hope will be enough to keep it fed, at a low level, for as long as it takes.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Junhee</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun carefully folds the sheets of letterpad paper into their original creases.  He places them back into the envelope, which he files neatly in the filing drawer of his desk. </p>
<p>He walks out of his bedroom to the small bathroom, closes the door behind him, sinks down to the toilet, and throws up.</p>
<p>He pukes until raw bile scrapes against his throat and nose before finally collapsing, half-delirious, against the wall. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott has heard the sounds of vomiting and knocks gently on the door.  “Donghun?  I’d ask whether you’re okay, buddy, but it sounds like you’re not.  Can I take you to urgent care?” </p>
<p>Donghun takes several deep breaths before answering.  “No, thank you.” He waits to hear the sound of Scott’s footsteps moving away, but instead it sounds as if Scott is settling on the corridor floor outside the bathroom.</p>
<p>Donghun brushes his teeth, rinses his face with cool water, and pats it dry.  He opens the door slowly to see Scott sitting on the floor, just as he’d thought. </p>
<p>“Hey, buddy,” says the redhead.</p>
<p>“Maybe you are right.  I think I am sick.” </p>
<p>“Sounds like it,” says Scott, running a hand through his hair.  His other hand puts his cell phone down on the floor next to him.  “I texted the Michaels to let them know you’re not well; they know not to expect you at work the next few days.” </p>
<p>“Did Michael B. say anything?”  Donghun’s immediate boss, the Front Office Manager, is occasionally less than forgiving of employee sick days. </p>
<p>“No.  Michael M. responded first anyway, wishing you the best, so Michael B. couldn’t pitch a fit even if he wanted to.”  Donghun silently sends the hotel’s General Manager a grateful mental nod. “Anyway, Donghun, you’ve literally never missed a day of work for anything.  They know what you’re worth to them.” </p>
<p>“Thank you.”  Donghun doesn’t know what else to say. </p>
<p>“You’re sure I can’t take you to urgent care?  I mean, maybe you just need some rest, but maybe it’s worth getting checked out.” </p>
<p>“I’m sure,” says Donghun.  Scott’s kindness is adding to the emotional maelstrom he feels.  “I am going to go lie down now.” </p>
<p>“Okay.  Well, I’m staying home the rest of tonight and all of tomorrow.  Let me know if you need anything or if you change your mind.  I even have Clarice’s amazing recipe for chicken soup, if you want some.” </p>
<p>“Thank you,” repeats Donghun, feeling his English vocabulary ebb hopelessly into the plastered walls of the old house. </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun waits until Scott is back at work, two days later, to call Junhee.  He knows Scott doesn’t understand Korean, but it still doesn’t feel like the kind of call he can make while someone else is in the house. </p>
<p>Junhee is currently in Baltimore.  Donghun looked it up; it’s in the same time zone as Atlanta, and it’s early enough that the singer is hopefully not yet at his show venue, surrounded by staff.</p>
<p>“Donghun!” Junhee picks up on the first ring. </p>
<p>“Hello, Junhee.”  Donghun feels his throat closing up.  He tucks himself tightly into the corner of the L-shaped sofa.</p>
<p>“So…” Junhee laughs, a touch nervously. “I left a letter with the friendly concierge…” </p>
<p>“I got the letter.” </p>
<p>“Good!  Good.  He looked reliable.  I mean, not that I have a reason to not trust anybody, it’s just…” </p>
<p>“No, no I know what you mean.” Donghun tries to keep his voice steady.  “Craig is a great guy.  I like him a lot.”</p>
<p>“Anyway, how are you, Donghun?” </p>
<p>Donghun wishes he could fold every atom of himself, every thought, every memory, every ancestral echo that led to this moment, into the crevice between the sofa cushions. </p>
<p>“I can’t do it, Junhee.” His voice is a croak.  “You wanted me to tell you if I’m ever sure I can’t return your feelings, and… I can’t.  So I’m telling you.” </p>
<p>Junhee is silent at first, until his slow breaths become ragged enough that Donghun can hear them through the phone. </p>
<p>“Did you just want to sleep with me?” asks the singer, and Donghun’s heart splinters. </p>
<p>“No – no, I wasn’t lying… you mean something to me – you mean a lot to me!  I just… I don’t think I can love you the way you love me.  I… I don’t think I can ever love <em>anybody</em> like that.”  His pulse thuds in his ears.  “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Another prolonged silence stretches between them.</p>
<p>“Okay.  I understand,” Junhee finally responds. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” whispers Donghun. </p>
<p>“Yeah, okay.” Junhee’s voice sounds lost, wandering.  “Thanks, I guess.  I… need to go.”</p>
<p>“Sure.  Have a good show.” </p>
<p>Junhee makes a noise that could be a laugh or a wail.  “Okay.  Bye.” </p>
<p>Junhee hangs up the phone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun, for the first time in his life, wants to cry – and is unable to do so. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He settles instead for watching the goriest, bloodiest horror movie he finds on TV, realizing when it’s over that he feels nothing, absolutely nothing, about any of the scenes or characters. </p>
<p>Just… nothing.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scott and a few other colleagues throw Donghun a party to celebrate his 1st anniversary in Atlanta.  The party is held at a large, fancy gastropub, teeming with fashionable Atlantans. </p>
<p>Donghun, drunk, lets a stranger suck him off in the gastropub bathroom.  He doesn’t ask for the man’s phone number afterward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t tell Byeongkwan or Sehyoon the full details, but he does reveal that he and Junhee hooked up while the singer was in Atlanta.  When Byeongkwan asks whether Donghun is going to leave Junhee hanging forever – or might even ghost him again, Donghun tells him he made things very clear to Junhee.  A clean break.  No false promises. </p>
<p>Maybe he’s supposed to feel pride or dignity that he did as Junhee asked – as Byeongkwan would want – and respected Junhee enough to make a clean break. </p>
<p>Instead, he feels only a searing, vision-clouding misery – a despair far, far worse than anything he felt before Junhee’s visit to Atlanta. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spring arrives in Atlanta, and with it the return of the infamous pollen.  Donghun opens the front door carefully every day.  He doesn’t get hit by any rainstorms of pollen dislodged from the roof. </p>
<p>The azaleas and dogwood trees blossom, and occasional thunderstorms pepper the warming weeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun takes up running, getting up early in the mornings when the air feels crispest.  The first morning, he thinks he’s going to die.  Running, he decides, is terrible.  Inexcusable, even.</p>
<p>A few days later he tries it again.  It still sucks. </p>
<p>But a few days after that, he tries it again.  And again.</p>
<p>It begins to stick as a habit.  He starts to see a tiny bit of muscle definition in his legs. </p>
<p>He runs to a mixed playlist of American and Korean music, and one morning, he finally experiences the rush of endorphins he’s heard called a “runner’s high.”  He does a quick check for onlookers and then creates an entirely impromptu, silly dance.  </p>
<p>His moves are not those of a trained, innately skilled dancer, but his joy, in that moment, is genuine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The spring weather abruptly swerves into an early arrival of Atlanta summer heat, and Donghun thanks his past self for deciding to run in the early mornings, before the sun has had a chance to bake the pavement into skillet-hot, sneaker-melting temperatures.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Michael B., the Front Office Manager, announces his retirement.  Although Donghun has never been particularly close to him, and they haven’t always seen eye to eye on managerial issues, he’s a decent and honest man.  Donghun wonders whom they will hire to replace him before realizing, with a jolt, that he can apply for the job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He does apply. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gets the job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Between running, work, and friends, Donghun starts to feel like a somewhat functioning human.</p>
<p>At dinner one night with Scott and Clarice, prompted by nothing in particular, he hears himself telling them, “I always knew I was good at front desk work.  It’s such… you always have to be the exact mold of whoever someone wants you to be.  When I did well at it, it felt like the world was confirming to me that I was only good at being a shell of a person.  Does that make sense?  Do I sound crazy?” </p>
<p>Clarice reaches out for his hand.  “Donghun, honey, if you’re a shell of a person, it’s one of those cool chocolate eggshells with a little toy inside.  They hired you to manage a whole department, because they know they can trust you to care for people.  Not just to make guests happy in the few moments you’re checking them in or out of a hotel.  You have staff lives in your hands – their schedules, their vacations, their concerns about their own career advancements.  The higher-ups trust you.  And so would I.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun might, just a bit, just a tiny, tiny bit, begin to believe it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he <em>is</em> a real person, who can really care for other people.  Maybe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he tells Byeongkwan about this conversation – Byeongkwan now positively itching with eagerness to finish his service in the military – his friend just snorts. </p>
<p>“What?  Did you think because you were kind of savage that you couldn’t love or be loved?  That doesn’t even make any sense.  You’ve always told me you loved me, Donghun-hyung.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but you’re different.” </p>
<p>“That’s true,” says Byeongkwan, easily.  “I am pretty awesome.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “I miss you.” </p>
<p>“Miss you too, idiot.”</p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t even call Byeongkwan out for being rude.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His thoughts in bed the night of this phone call are more confused than ever, turning over themselves in loops.  Any time his brain gently suggests the topic <em>Junhee,</em>  Donghun scrambles to obliterate it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Late in the summer, Scott lets Donghun know that he will be moving in with Clarice.  Donghun has the option of moving, finding another roommate, or simply renting the small, two-bedroom house by himself. </p>
<p>He realizes that his salary more than amply justifies renting the same house by himself.  He’s grown to love this small house’s old, plastered walls, the distant sound of the trains, and the view of the kudzu creeping all over the back fence.  He signs the lease by himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In many ways, having the house to himself is great.  Donghun can wear socks and slide around the floors, surfing across the old wooden parquetry.  His level of impromptu silly dancing increases by at least double.  He never has to wait on the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he realizes, as he sits on his new sofa – Scott took his sofa with him to Clarice’s house – that he’s lonely. </p>
<p>He starts watching Korean TV, occasionally.  Donghun is astonished by what’s available via online streaming and realizes at some point that every modern radio station streams its broadcasts through the internet these days. He feels a twinge of embarrassment as he recalls sitting in his driveway so many moons ago, listening to a certain interview.</p>
<p>He quickly tries to shut that memory away, but fortune does not favor him.  The memory feels fresh and jagged: the taste of Junhee’s sweet lips marred by the salt of dried sweat, the silken slip of the satin-covered handcuffs, which still sit in the corner of Donghun’s bedroom closet, buried under boxes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Autumn whispers its approach in an unusually chilly, refreshing breeze on one of Donghun’s morning runs.  He thrills to the changing wind, already anticipating that this year, he wants to see the leaves changing color in the North Georgia mountains.  He’s heard a lot about it. </p>
<p>It’s nice – and unusual, he realizes – to be looking forward to things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A series of phone calls with Sehyoon brings him something else to anticipate: Sehyoon and Byeongkwan make plans to visit Atlanta a couple of weeks after Byeongkwan is discharged from the military. </p>
<p>“Can you get us a deep discount at The Pearl Odette, Donghun?” asks Sehyoon. </p>
<p>“Yeah, right!  I would never make you pay for a hotel room.  You two will be staying with me.  If you don’t want to share the guest room, my new sofa has a pull-out bed.  It’s actually pretty comfortable.” </p>
<p>Sehyoon clears his throat.  “Well, he’s had a few weekends of leave here and there, and… it… Well.  I can tell you it probably will be fine to share a room.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “Okay.” </p>
<p>“Should we be expecting you to introduce us to anybody?” </p>
<p>Donghun sighs gently.  “No.  I haven’t really dated anybody.  Not since – anyway, no.”  </p>
<p>“Mmm…” Sehyoon sounds hesitant. </p>
<p>“Why do you ask?” </p>
<p>“Well, just wondering.  I don’t know the details of what happened with you and Junhee, but… I hope you’re not holding out for him.” </p>
<p>“I’m not!”  <em>Definitely, totally, not at all.</em> </p>
<p>“Good, because he’s with Kang Mindeulle.  They were on some variety show.” </p>
<p>Donghun blanches.  “The actress?” </p>
<p>“That’s the one.” </p>
<p>“Well,” Donghun tries to sound casual. “It’s fine.  We had a clean break.  And it was a long time ago.” </p>
<p>“Okay, good to hear.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun wraps up the phone call, head spinning.  <em>Kang Mindeulle.</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tucks himself into his sofa that evening and cues up the variety show Sehyoon mentioned.  <em>Today’s featured guests: Entertainment’s Hottest Couple, Park Junhee and Kang Mindeulle!</em> </p>
<p>Kang Mindeulle is indisputably beautiful – an absolute knockout, famous for her looks since she was a teenager.  She has giant doe eyes, a plush, bee-stung mouth, and a slender, petite figure.  She’s as delicate-looking as her name – “Dandelion” – suggests, but her expression and demeanor are sparkling.  The vivacity in her face and body language are undeniable.</p>
<p>It’s no wonder anybody would fall in love with her. </p>
<p>But Donghun has to take in all of these details about her – the eyes, the mouth, the laugh – by force, piecemeal, wrenching his attention from Park Junhee, ballad singer. </p>
<p>Junhee’s hair is swept off his face, soft and fluffy.  Although he’s wearing a long-sleeved, button-up shirt, his lean physicality is apparent.  </p>
<p>Donghun feels just as astonished looking at him now as he had the first time he saw him.  And the second.  And every time after.</p>
<p>Junhee and Mindeulle chat easily with each other and the host.  They participate in a diverse array of goofy games, and Mindeulle beats Junhee in every round.  He laughs self-deprecatingly with each loss, expressive eyes twinkling. </p>
<p>Donghun learns from one interview segment that Junhee’s manager, Chan, has even developed a tiny base of fans who think he’s cute.  They call themselves CheonCheonHee – a pun on Chan’s name, Junhee’s name, and the word for “slowly” – an intentional joke, since nothing about Chan is slow.</p>
<p>The host asks the couple about their relationship, and Junhee’s eyes become a touch more subdued, a shade more guarded. </p>
<p>Mindeulle laughs.  “All of our mutual friends said that he falls in love so easily, and that he gives his heart away immediately!  But it’s not true; I tried to get his attention for over six months before he finally asked me out!” </p>
<p>The host laughs.  “Were you just trying to play hard to get, Junhee-ssi?  You wanted to know whether she really was interested?” </p>
<p>Junhee smiles, but Donghun feels the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “I’m not sure why any of my friends would tell her that!  I don’t fall in love easily.” </p>
<p>“There’s no basis for what they said, huh?” the host asks with a chuckle. “You’re not so free and easy with your affections?</p>
<p>“No basis at all,” says Junhee.  “I don’t like to take the lead or tell people I’m interested in them.” </p>
<p>Mindeulle shakes her head and beams her most effervescent smile at the host.  “It’s true.  It was like pulling teeth, he was so reluctant to date officially.  I started to doubt whether he was even interested in me!”  She laughs, as does the host, as it would obviously be absurd for any man to be uninterested in dating her. </p>
<p>“So, Junhee-ssi, you generally have some dating-related reservations?”</p>
<p>Junhee nods, slowly.  “That’s right.  Reservations.  Always.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun turns off the TV.  He feels a burble of nausea, for the first time in months.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oof.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mint green-haired man coming up the escalator at the airport looks <em>just</em> like Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>For a split-second, Donghun allows sadness to flicker across his mind… until it clicks. </p>
<p>
  <em>Byeongkwan!</em>
</p>
<p>In the quickest of heartbeats, Donghun’s best friend – with carry-on bags and a twinkle-eyed Sehyoon in tow – flies across the polished floor of the arrivals meeting area.  </p>
<p>Donghun buries his chin and face in the crook of Byeongkwan’s neck. </p>
<p>Their words are muffled by coats, but neither man will let go long enough to fully de-muffle his speech. </p>
<p>“Mmf.  My brain didn’t even think it could be you,” Donghun shnorfles. “You look like toothpaste.”</p>
<p>“Good to see you too, idiot.” </p>
<p>“Rude.”  But Donghun holds his friend in an even tighter embrace. </p>
<p>“You smell nice, hyung.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be creepy.” </p>
<p>“It’s okay.  Sehyoon understands.”  Byeongkwan pulls back slightly.  “Right?” </p>
<p>Donghun follows his friend’s gaze and takes in Sehyoon’s appearance; he looks good.  <em>Alive.</em>  Alive and happy, his smiling cheeks turning his eyes to twinkling crescents. </p>
<p>“Hi, Donghun!” says the artist.  “It’s good to see you.” </p>
<p>“You too, Sehyoon!  Even if you did let him dye his hair mint chocolate ice cream color.” </p>
<p>Sehyoon’s laugh echoes across the arrivals floor.  “Imagine me trying to tell him not to do something.” </p>
<p>Donghun smiles.  “Fair enough.”  He gives Byeongkwan one more squeeze before letting go.  He hoists one of the bags onto his shoulder.  “Let’s go wait for your luggage at the baggage claim.  Both of you look so awake!  Didn’t you have a long layover in Dallas?” </p>
<p>“Well, my intention was to get here a lot sleepier,” says Byeongkwan, and Sehyoon groans good-naturedly.  “If somebody hadn’t shot down my suggestion for us to join the mile-high club…” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get arrested by an air marshal for doing anything improper.” </p>
<p>They arrive at the baggage carousel.  Byeongkwan and Sehyoon lean into each other, the telltale traces of fatigue creeping into their faces after the initial flush of excitement.  </p>
<p>Some part of Donghun tells him that a few years ago, he would have scoffed at their easy intimacy – the way that Byeongkwan’s eyes soften sleepily at this contact with his boyfriend, the way that Sehyoon’s eyes smile at Byeongkwan’s touch, even when the rest of his face is a flat muddle of exhaustion. </p>
<p>Donghun looks at them and feels none of his old, skeptical bitterness.  He enjoys the gentle warmth of the moment, feeling his shoulders settle as he watches his best friend relax, so visibly comforted by Sehyoon’s presence.</p>
<p>Byeongkwan’s sleepy eyes startle open with the sound of the baggage carousel humming into action, and he catches Donghun’s appraising gaze.  “Don’t be jealous,” he murmurs. </p>
<p>“I’m not,” says Donghun.  He means it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byeongkwan and Sehyoon’s first few days are full of Atlanta sightseeing, their hours dominated by tourist attractions, hundreds of selcas, and Donghun’s favorite local food – so, so much food. </p>
<p>Thus, they both look at Donghun with wide eyes when he tells them there’s a restaurant they should visit, famous for overfeeding its patrons.  </p>
<p>“How could anything be crazier than Waffle Factory?” asks Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>“Waffle House,” Donghun corrects him.  “And there’s a catch – well, two of them.  Catch number one is that to get to this other restaurant, we would have to drive into the mountains… but I’ve been meaning to do that anyway, to see the colors of the changing tree foliage.  Catch two is a surprise.” </p>
<p>Sehyoon and Byeongkwan exchange a glance.  Sehyoon shrugs.  “Alright, we’re in,” says Byeongkwan.  “But if the second catch is something really horrific and upsetting, we’re headed straight back to the airport.  I didn’t get out of the military and fly across the world for some dumb jumpscare.” </p>
<p>“I don’t even think those are really a thing here…?  Or maybe I’m just out of the loop, I dunno,” says Donghun.  </p>
<p>“You’re getting old,” teases Sehyoon. </p>
<p>“You’re just as old as I am!” </p>
<p>Sehyoon’s face is half-serious, half-joking.  “Yeah, well, it’s different – you’re a fancy bigshot manager now, and I’m just starting to book spots in collaborative art shows, still pulling valet shifts on the side to pay the bills.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan reaches a hand out toward Sehyoon.  “But your art has been so well-received!  It’s just a matter of time before you book a solo show.” </p>
<p>“Thanks, Kwannie,” says Sehyoon.  For just a fraction of a second, Donghun registers a fleeting vapor of discomfort, hearing his old nickname for his best friend uttered by another person.  It’s not possessiveness, exactly, but rather a flicker of protectiveness.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a weird look on your face, hyung,” says Byeongkwan.</p>
<p>“Just thinking,” says Donghun.  </p>
<p>Byeongkwan drops the issue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Donghun has a moment to himself, brushing his teeth, he recalls his earlier moment of discomfort.  For many years, Byeongkwan has been his other half, and the instinct to protect his friend is strong.  </p>
<p>Sure, Byeongkwan has dated others before, and Donghun’s always accepted his partners easily.  This feels different, somehow – bigger. </p>
<p>But then it occurs to Donghun that it’s exactly this difference – the magnitude of Byeongkwan’s connection with Sehyoon – that matters.  It’s written all over everything his friend does.  The way he looks at his boyfriend with a calm confidence, well past the giddy flirtatiousness of their first interactions; the way Sehyoon, in turn, comes out of his own shell and treats Byeongkwan with love and – most importantly – respect. </p>
<p>Donghun considers what it might be like to witness years or decades of further close intimacy between the two, and what that would mean for both of them. </p>
<p>He feels a spark of comfort and hope travel like a shiver down his spine. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan and Sehyoon… they’re going to be fine, together.  For a long, long time. </p>
<p>Donghun pats his face dry, feeling his face smile into his towel, and leaves the bathroom to herd them into his car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drive up the Georgia mountains and into the town of Dahlonega is beautiful – winding, breezy, and just as full of changing autumn colors as Donghun had hoped. </p>
<p>Not yet hungry for lunch, the three men take a tour of the gold-mining museum.  There’s a video about the Dahlonega gold mines and other local history.  Byeongkwan speaks a good amount of English and whispers occasional translations to Sehyoon.  When he gets a local idiom wrong, Donghun doesn’t correct him. </p>
<p>They wander around the museum’s gift store – full of trinkets, postcards and everything golden, of course, in keeping with the town’s legacy as the site of an early gold rush. </p>
<p>Sehyoon waits until Byeongkwan is in the bathroom to slip a small nugget of Georgia gold to Donghun.  “Can you ring this up with your items?  Just in case.  I’ll pay you back.” </p>
<p>Donghun nods.  He doesn’t question Sehyoon about the purchase. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lunch reveals the second catch.  A kindly server takes their drink orders, then leaves without further discussion.  After several minutes of conversation, with no menus or further questions, Byeongkwan and Sehyoon begin shifting in their seats.  </p>
<p>“So how do we order?” asks Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>Donghun grins.  “We don’t.  They just bring you food.  Whatever they’ve cooked is what we get.” </p>
<p>“What?!” Sehyoon and Byeongkwan are surprised – and maybe a touch hesitant. </p>
<p>“You’ve always taken weird little risks,” says Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>“You know, maybe I have,” says Donghun.  “It’s always been the larger risks that scare me.” </p>
<p>“Like love?” Byeongkwan is direct as ever, eyes cool and calm. </p>
<p>Donghun takes a deep breath.  “Like love.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan considers him across the table.  “I feel like even bringing up the topic would have made you throw a hissy fit, before you moved.”</p>
<p>“I do not throw hissy fits!” </p>
<p>“I see that.” Byeongkwan shrugs.  “Not anymore.  That’s exactly what I’m saying.  You know what’s up with you?  You’ve <em>mellowed.</em>”  He has an approving look on his face.</p>
<p>Before Donghun can respond, servers begin to bring food to the table.  The barrage of plates and bowls seems endless, and Donghun momentarily fears for the table’s structural integrity. </p>
<p>“Okay, this is insane,” says Sehyoon.  “If we keep eating like this, I doubt we’ll even fit on the airplane to fly home.” </p>
<p>“Guess we’ll have to work it off, somehow,” Byeongkwan says, before innocently taking a sip of his drink. </p>
<p>“Gross!” says Donghun, but he’s laughing.  </p>
<p>It’s good to have them here.  Really, really good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The three men drive around North Georgia, stopping to take pictures in a town that’s been designed to be a replica of a German alpine village. </p>
<p>The sky has turned to blush pink, and the setting sun transforms the clouded sky into a sea of golden puffs. </p>
<p>Sehyoon extends his arm and snaps a picture of the three of them in front of a German-style cottage.  They huddle together to try to capture some of the river in the background, and their faces are illuminated by golden-orange light.  Donghun’s chin rests on Byeongkwan’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Looking at the picture, Donghun feels – for the first time in a long time, or possibly ever – at home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byeongkwan and Donghun take an early morning walk around Donghun’s neighborhood together (Sehyoon is sleeping in today; based on the decibel rating of earplugs Donghun needed to get to sleep, he’s pretty sure he knows why).</p>
<p>They walk past several houses in companionable silence before Byeongkwan speaks.  “I think you should see somebody.” </p>
<p>“I’ve been on a few dates, but nobody’s really captured my interest, to be honest.”  </p>
<p>Donghun reflects on how underwhelmed he’d been by the few people he’d met for coffee or dinner, whether finding them online or through friends.  There hadn’t been any more Daryl-type situations – <em>thank fuck</em> – but neither had there been anybody worth seeing a second time, much less kissing or anything further. </p>
<p>“Not even what I meant, hyung.” </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“I mean, like, I think you should see a therapist.” </p>
<p>“Are you kidding?” </p>
<p>“Why would I be kidding?” Byeongkwan’s raised eyebrow nearly disappears under his fringe of mint green. </p>
<p>Donghun feels his face harden.  “Isn’t therapy basically just going to be… me revealing how fucked up I am to someone, who will then proceed to repeat back to me exactly this same information, about how fucked up I am?”  He expects Byeongkwan to argue, but his friend just laughs. </p>
<p>“I don’t think you realize that when you’re trying to be a dick, you’re mostly just funny and adorable.  It’s when you think you’re doing the right thing but living in your own head, not consulting others, that you really act like an asshole.” </p>
<p>Donghun considers this as they walk.  “I’ve done pretty well not consulting others, don’t you think?  I have a lot of practice doing things on my own.” </p>
<p>“Oh, you’ve always been self-reliant.  It’s one of your best qualities.”</p>
<p>Something about this statement of Byeongkwan’s triggers a ghost of a memory in Donghun’s mind, but he can’t quite place it.  His stomach starts feeling a little fluttery with the echo of faintly recalled emotions. </p>
<p>Byeongkwan stops to snap a picture of a plastic lawn flamingo before continuing. “I don’t think I or anybody else ever gave you enough credit for succeeding in so many ways, in the absence of any parental support.” </p>
<p>“Well, I’ve always had you,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>“Yeah, but then I enlisted, and you moved, and then – you didn’t have me.  Your former roomie and his friends are great, but… it doesn’t sound like you were willing or able to talk to him about the things that really matter.  The deep, dark weird shit… existential questions, or childhood trauma, or fucking a superstar and then leaving him for no apparent reason.” </p>
<p>Donghun stops short in the middle of the sidewalk, next to a bed of withering, brown flowers.  “You know how you said I’ve mellowed?” </p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“I’ve decided you’re right, because you can say shit like that, and I don’t even have the urge to deck you or shove you straight into this rather ugly patch of withered plants.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan purses his lips skeptically.  “Are you trying to change the subject?” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” admits Donghun. </p>
<p>“Give it a think, okay?  I worry about you, hyung.  We’re flying back to Korea in a few days, and you’ll still be here indefinitely.  I want you to have someone to talk to – someone who can actually help you figure shit out.” </p>
<p>Donghun pauses, then steps forward to give his friend a hug.  “I appreciate you.  Even when you’re being irritating.” </p>
<p>“You wouldn’t love me half as much if I weren’t occasionally irritating.” </p>
<p>“That’s a weird thing to say,” says Donghun.  “But you might be right.” </p>
<p>“I always am.”  </p>
<p>“Always?  Don’t push your luck, mint-chocolate hair boy.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan just smiles, as if realizing the same thing that Donghun just did:  Byeongkwan has won. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun waits only a week after his friends fly back to Korea before finding a therapist. </p>
<p>He’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this: a friendly, no-nonsense woman in her forties, who never sugarcoats her thoughts and always listens to him with her full attention. </p>
<p>Donghun likes her so much that he almost wishes she weren’t his therapist, so that they could become true friends.  Still, he’s grateful to have her advice in a professional capacity. </p>
<p>“Ah, so you’ve been experiencing depression,” she says, the first time they meet. </p>
<p>“Depression?” asks Donghun.  “Isn’t that where you’re just sad all the time?  I don’t… I guess sometimes I think I feel depressed, but that’s just a thing people say, right?  I don’t think I actually have it.  Um, not in a… real way?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I think you do.  Clinically, I mean.  The hollow emptiness, the loss of perspective, constantly feeling unworthy, believing that you’re a terrible person so deeply that others can’t get through to you…  Yeah, sounds like depression to me.” </p>
<p>Until this moment, it has genuinely never occurred to Donghun that he might have a clinical mental health issue.  He feels a sudden rush of silliness for never having considered it. </p>
<p>“Do I need drugs?” he asks, a touch hesitantly. </p>
<p>“Medication might be an option.  It helps a lot of people,” she says.  “But that’s a discussion for a little while down the road.  Honestly, it sounds like you’ve been making some pretty remarkable progress on your own.  Depression is a tough beast to handle alone, but things like regular exercise can help, as well as the support of friends.” </p>
<p>Donghun reflects on his early morning runs, as well as his increased contact with Byeongkwan and Sehyoon.  “So… what now?” </p>
<p>“Let’s start you off with some cognitive behavioral therapy.  CBT.  Have you ever kept a journal?” </p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>“I think it would be a good idea to start journaling.  Don’t worry!” She laughs at Donghun’s expression.  “I’ll never ask to read what you write.  You could even write in Korean.  I’m here to provide guidance, not to teach you how to write.” </p>
<p>Donghun leaves the therapist’s office exhausted but hopeful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neviana, one of the most famous musicians in the world, books a stay at The Pearl Odette; the hotel shifts into overdrive to prepare.  </p>
<p>An entire floor of the hotel is rebuilt to accommodate her needs.  A housekeeping service room is turned into a custom kitchen for her personal chef.  The air-conditioning system is rerouted entirely, to accommodate the singer’s paranoia of secret cameras hidden in ductwork.  The hotel’s ballroom is converted into a gym and practice space for her many backup dancers.</p>
<p>Two of Neviana’s assistants travel to the hotel ahead of her arrival, confirming that her nearly-400-page rider has been completed as requested. </p>
<p>“The flower vases look okay, the color is fine… but they have to be replaced.  They need to be wider than they are tall,” says the taller assistant, ticking items off on her clipboard. </p>
<p>“Yes, I caught that, too,” says the other one.  “Oh, the patio furniture!” </p>
<p>“That’s right, the patio furniture… the deck chairs have arms, and our client requires all chairs to be free of arms.” </p>
<p>Donghun smiles at them, as though these were all perfectly reasonable requests. “We will replace them this afternoon.” </p>
<p>“Perfect.  The piano will arrive here tomorrow at 8am, along with her linens.  The piano tuner usually flies in with our client’s B-team of personal assistants, as well as her chef; their flight gets in around noon.” </p>
<p>“We’ll have two drivers at the airport to greet them.”  Donghun uses his calmest, most reassuring voice.  He means the smaller airport, of course – private airplanes only, no commercial flights.</p>
<p>“Great.  You have the list of temperature requirements for all of our client’s meeting and dining rooms?” asks the shorter assistant. </p>
<p>“We do, and our engineering staff has copies of everything.” </p>
<p>The taller assistant looks at her colleague; they nod at each other.  “Thank you, Donghun.  We appreciate your efforts.” </p>
<p>“Of course,” says Donghun.  “My pleasure.”  It’s his favorite phrase he’s picked up in Atlanta. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neviana’s stay is not, in fact, a pleasure for The Pearl Odette’s staff.</p>
<p>One night, the singer decides at the last second to change the venue of her dinner.  The room she has chosen is currently set about 10 degrees colder than the originally specified room, but Neviana has already entered the new space and demanded her meal be served there. </p>
<p>A fight erupts between two of her assistants, just outside the closed door to the new dining room.  They can’t decide whether the best solution is to have the hotel staff bring in space heaters or to crank the central heating, knowing that air blowing powerfully on Neviana’s skin will be a huge no-no. </p>
<p>Donghun watches their increasingly angry exchange, radio in hand, ready to instruct his staff about which solution they prefer.  The door behind them opens, and out steps Neviana herself.  She doesn’t look angry so much as confused.  </p>
<p>“Cindy,” says the singer to one of the assistants, before staring at the goosebumps on her arms.  “I’m… cold?”  She sounds unsure of whether that’s the right word.</p>
<p>Donghun realizes in this instant that Neviana, world-beloved superstar, has had every single micron of her experience controlled to the extent that this woman has to <em>think</em> about what the sensation she’s feeling is called. </p>
<p><em>She probably hasn’t felt a raindrop on her skin in years.</em> </p>
<p>Donghun suddenly wonders in a rush just what he’s doing here, and what a strange, strange way to make a living he has chosen. </p>
<p>He can’t wait to tell his therapist about Neviana’s “I’m… cold?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Therapy goes well, and Donghun finds himself returning to his sessions week after week.  </p>
<p>It’s occasionally upsetting or difficult, but Donghun surprises himself one evening by laughing at one of his own misjudgments in a good-natured way, rather than with his customary dark humor. </p>
<p>Even he can tell that this is progress. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spring arrives – his third pollen season in Atlanta, Donghun realizes with astonishment.  He’s lived in the city over two years. </p>
<p>He’s almost come to regard the advent of the thick, sneeze-inducing clouds of yellow powder as a sort of timestamp in his mental calendar.  He remembers the confusion and newness of his first pollen season, and this year he feels settled – content, even. </p>
<p>It’s the one in between, he decides, that’s hardest to think about, because it was his first pollen season totally post-Junhee. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sehyoon occasionally keeps him up to date on Junhee’s music show wins, and Donghun at some point clocks that it’s always been Sehyoon who provides him Junhee-related information. </p>
<p>“Sehyoon,” he asks on the phone one day.  “Not to be weird, but why do you do this?” </p>
<p>“Do what?” </p>
<p>“Talk to me about Junhee.  I’m over our break-up, I really am, so I don’t know why you bring him up with me all the time.” </p>
<p>Sehyoon is quiet for a second, before his sheepish voice comes back on the line.  “I guess I’m actually kind of a big fan of his music, and I have been for a long time.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  He laughs until his eyes water, and he thinks to himself that maybe – probably – he’s telling the truth: he’s over Park Junhee.  </p>
<p>It’s cute that Sehyoon is a fan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun comes home from a long shift at work and checks his phone, which he’s neglected for hours. </p>
<p>He sees a pending voicemail and hits PLAY; it’s an urgent request for Donghun to call back as soon as possible.  The number and office name are those of a Korean legal firm. </p>
<p>Donghun checks the time and does a quick mental calculation; it’s about noon in Seoul.  He calls the number. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After his call is routed through a series of phone operators and assistants, Donghun reaches the attorney who called him. </p>
<p>The attorney delivers his news in crisp, professional tones:  Donghun’s parents have both been killed in a car crash.  </p>
<p>After several seconds of silence, Donghun indicates that he has heard and understood.</p>
<p>The attorney continues: Donghun has inherited their considerable fortune.  The legal team will require Donghun’s presence in person to sign documents.  The legal firm is sorry for Donghun’s loss.  Does Donghun have any questions?  No? Very well; the firm will be in touch via email for further communication, although Donghun is of course welcome to call should any questions arise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun hangs up the call.  He takes off the suit he’s been wearing at work all day and stands in his underwear, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to remember the faces of his parents.  His nose – people always comment on his nose.  Why can’t he recall the noses of his parents?  Do either of them have his sad eyes?  Why can’t he remember any of this?  </p>
<p>Finally, he digs in his wardrobe for shorts and a running tee.  </p>
<p>He steps outside his front door and goes for a run, late at night, listening to the sounds of the city around him.  </p>
<p>He runs.  And runs.  And runs. </p>
<p>Finally, in the middle of the night, he finds himself home again at his small, old house.  He walks to the back yard.  It’s dark, but he can still make out the kudzu, nowadays creeping all over not only his back fence but toward his deck and the neighbor’s yard as well. </p>
<p>He walks to the kudzu vines, breaks off a leaf, and then crushes it between his hands, until his skin smells of greenery – of life, of growth. </p>
<p>He sinks down onto the dark, moonlit grass – the sound of the crickets uninterrupted by distant trains, for once. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And for the first time in over two decades, he cries.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tags have been updated.  😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael, the General Manager at The Pearl Odette, Atlanta, is not an easily surprised man.  </p>
<p>Nevertheless, his face registers a certain degree of shock when Donghun slides his letter of resignation across the mahogany boardroom table.  Donghun thinks for a second, then removes his lapel pin – a silver swan with a pearl, of course.  He gently replaces the backing on the pin and sets this next to the letter on the desk. </p>
<p>“It’s funny,” says Michael.  “You became a Front Office Manager at an exceptionally young age not by chance or by any sort of favoritism, although I’ve always liked you, of course.  We hired you for the position for two reasons.”  </p>
<p>He leans back in his chair before continuing.  “The first was that you could clearly do the job; you’re level-headed and have excellent intuition for guest and staff responses.  The second, though, what really pushed you ahead of the other qualified candidates, was that you struck the hiring team as someone who was working here because he wanted to be here.  Not that it was just a job, but that you were here by <em>choice.</em>” He looks thoughtful.  “Some people are just born with hospitality instincts; you’re one of them.” </p>
<p>Michael looks at the letter and reaches for it, not yet opening the seal – just tapping his fingers gently on top of the envelope.  “But maybe I was wrong.  Either that or we’ve let you down somehow; maybe the job has fallen short of what you’d expected in some way.  You would let me know if that were the case, though, wouldn’t you?” </p>
<p>“I’ve loved it here,” says Donghun.  “Everyone has been welcoming since the day I arrived, and there is a lot I will miss about this hotel and this city, when I go back to Korea.  I apologize, but there are some personal issues that came up in my life.  I thank you for the incredible opportunity, and I will miss everybody very much.” </p>
<p>“If this is about military conscription, you know you could always take a sabbatical from The Pearl Odette, rather than resign entirely?  Although not a Korean company, our East Asian corporate structure has systems in place to navigate that circumstance.” </p>
<p>“Thank you, sir.  I do realize; one of my friends actually did just that, and he’s now back working as a concierge at The Pearl Odette, Seoul.  But I’m afraid this is a little more complicated than that.” </p>
<p>Michael furrows his eyebrows slightly.  “I don’t mean to pry, but is it anything we could help you with?  You know I don’t just think of my staff as means to an end; we’re a family, in a way.” </p>
<p>“I do appreciate that, thank you.  And… no, thank you.” Donghun decides to leave it at that.  If there were any way Michael or anybody else could relieve the sickening feelings of guilt and disgust when considering his sizeable inheritance, Donghun would jump at the chance.  But that seems like too much of a long shot.</p>
<p>The General Manager nods.  “Well, it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.  Wherever you’re going, I hope you take care of yourself.  They’ll be lucky to have you.  And I’ll always be happy to give you a reference.” He suddenly grins at Donghun.  “And I guess no more dealing with the crazies like Neviana, right?” </p>
<p>Donghun can’t choke back his bark of laughter.  He’s never heard the General Manager speak like this.  “No, sir, I guess not.” </p>
<p>Now he just has to deal with his own craziness, instead. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun’s goodbye party gets a little wild.  The bar creates a signature cocktail for Donghun: the Donghoney – a blend of Tennessee whiskey, peach soju, and whipped wildflower honey, served with half of a Georgia pecan on the rim.  It’s the best present Donghun can think of; he doesn’t want a single additional item he would then have to transport halfway around the world in his luggage.</p>
<p>Anna ends up making out with the server with amazing cleavage, Craig brings his husband, and Clarice asks Scott loudly, though not unkindly, whether all Front Office people are gay.  “Most of us are LGBTQ of some sort!” interrupts Donghun with a laugh.  “It’s… it’s kind of a stereotype, to be honest, but it’s mostly true.  Straight people are the exception.” </p>
<p>“Tell me the truth,” Clarice asks, tipsiness evident in the dramatic way she leans in to ask her question.  “I know you went on a few dates while you were here, but you said you didn’t even kiss any of them.  Did you really never, like, hook up with anybody, the whole time you were in this city?!  I feel like we failed you!” </p>
<p>Donghun dismisses the thought of his anonymous encounter, the last time his friends held him a big party – but the memory of Junhee and the satin-covered handcuffs rushes to his mind.  He waits just a fraction too long to formulate a response, and Clarice shrieks.  “I knew it!  Was it while you were still living with Scott?” </p>
<p>Donghun nods, face on fire.  Scott hoots with laughter.</p>
<p>“You have to tell us who it was!” says Clarice, delighted. </p>
<p>“A hotel guest,” says Donghun, figuring that’s enough detail – and the gathering crowd of coworkers shrieks.  </p>
<p>“Is that all we get?” asks Clarice. </p>
<p>“That’s all you get,” says Donghun. </p>
<p>He makes eye contact with Craig, who raises his eyebrows questioningly.  Donghun nods, and Craig flashes him two approving thumbs up. </p>
<p>Their colleagues mob Craig, demanding he spill, asking him what and how he knows.  “I will never tell, not in a million years,” he says, and his husband chimes in to say that Craig always keeps secrets. </p>
<p>Donghun is really, <em>really</em> going to miss them all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s also going to miss his therapist.  She’s gone out of her way to find a therapist who can continue working on CBT with him when he arrives in Korea, and Donghun thinks, not for the first time, that he owes a lot to some really kind people in this city. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon reflecting on really kind people… he knows exactly where to eat his last lunch, before Scott drives him to the airport one Thursday afternoon. </p>
<p>“This place is great,” Scott says, swallowing the last bite of a small cheese bread.  “And what is this soda?  It’s almost citrusy but not exactly… like… halfway between citrus and a berry flavor?  I can’t explain it.” </p>
<p>“It’s called Guaraná,” says Donghun.  “Bring Clarice here sometime, okay?  The people are great.” </p>
<p>Scott <em>mmphs</em> his agreement, mouth now too full of Brazilian steak to answer verbally. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun has a window seat on the airplane.  The airplane takes off toward the east, into the wind, and then slowly banks toward its northwesterly flightpath.  As the wing dips during the turn, Donghun sees the silvered dome of Stone Mountain, then the skyscrapers of downtown Atlanta – illuminated by the glittering, purple-orange glow of early twilight. </p>
<p>He presses his forehead against the window.  “Beautiful,” he murmurs to himself in English – wincing slightly as he thinks about how bilingual his internal monologue has become. </p>
<p>Is this a dumb idea?</p>
<p>Well, it’s too late, now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fortunately, Byeongkwan and Sehyoon have long since abandoned the pretense that each of them will sleep in separate rooms of their two-bedroom apartment, so Donghun has a place to stay, at least for the near future. </p>
<p>He’s quite sure about his next steps, but he appreciates the space they give him to figure everything out on his own. </p>
<p>A few days after his arrival in Seoul, after he’s finalized the legal paperwork related to his parents’ passing, Donghun finds himself walking to the subway almost without conscious thought. </p>
<p>He travels across the city and rings the doorbell to Byeongkwan’s parents’ house. </p>
<p>Once she’s over the shock of seeing Donghun, Byeongkwan’s mother welcomes him inside, feeds him, and preens over him as though he were her own son. </p>
<p>He tells her about the loose plans he’s been floating in his head.</p>
<p>“I know Byeongkwan always wanted you to go into hotels with him,” she tells Donghun.  “But I think maybe you’re right.  Maybe the luxury hotel thing, in Seoul… I’m not sure it’s right for you.”  She laughs.  “You don’t even dress like them anymore!”</p>
<p>Donghun feels his cheeks prickle.  It’s true.  He’d noticed straightaway that his more casual, Atlanta-influenced way of dressing himself now sticks out painfully amongst the fashionable Seoul denizens.  He can’t remember the last time he squeezed himself into skinny jeans.  Not that he’d be able to fit into his old jeans, anyway – not with the muscles he’s developed from running.</p>
<p>She considers him thoughtfully.  “Either way, I think your plan is a good one.  I know you’ll be proud to serve your country, and it’ll give you plenty of time to consider your options, make sure you feel confident in your decisions.” </p>
<p>Donghun can’t thank her enough for her support and advice.  Oh, but he tries.  </p>
<p>Byeongkwan’s mother might be looking just a little teary-eyed when he hugs her goodbye. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Donghun tells Byeongkwan and Sehyoon that he’s going to enlist, Byeongkwan’s face remains serious, but Sehyoon bursts into laughter.  </p>
<p>Donghun and Byeongkwan are equally bewildered. </p>
<p>“What the hell?  What’s so funny about it?” asks Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>“It’s just… of <em>course</em> you’re going now.”  Sehyoon can barely speak through his laughter. </p>
<p>Donghun and Byeongkwan look at each other and shake their heads.  Whatever the joke is, they are not in on it. </p>
<p>“Wait right there,” Sehyoon tells them.  He brings out his phone from the bedroom and pulls up an article on an entertainment news site. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Park Junhee Ready to Enlist</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em>… singer Park Junhee confirmed the reports of his enlistment but refused to comment on whether this move, in the prime of his career, was related to his recent break-up with actress Kang Mindeulle.  “I am excited to serve in the defense of my nation,” he told reporters…</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously?’ groans Donghun.  “Even now, you think of me when you read about him?” </p>
<p>“You two <em>were</em> awfully cute together,” says Byeongkwan. </p>
<p>“Really?  You, too?” Donghun sighs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Truly, though, the one giving Donghun the hardest time about Junhee… is Donghun himself. </p>
<p>Somehow, being back in Korea, back in the bustling city of Seoul, is triggering memories of what – and whom – he was doing, right before he left.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tries to tell himself that he wouldn’t be affected in the slightest if he found himself serving alongside Park Junhee, but one of the side effects of effective therapy is that lying to himself has become increasingly difficult. </p>
<p>At least he’s able to keep his anxiety about the possibility to a dull roar.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun needn’t have worried.  He joins the Army’s Capital Defense Command, whereas Junhee enlists in the Air Force. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sometimes, when Donghun has a moment to think – when he’s momentarily left to his own thoughts during breakfast, or in the barracks, half-asleep… or especially when he’s on leave for a weekend here and there – he almost wishes they <em>were</em> serving together. </p>
<p>Almost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He does make friends in the Army, and he doesn’t even rely on a single one of his carefully crafted smiles to do so. </p>
<p>It feels alright. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The other thing the Army has going for Donghun is the opportunity to learn to work out beyond just running.  He develops lean muscles in places he didn’t even know they could grow. </p>
<p>Coincidental to the development of rather sexy arm muscles, he acquires a few more sleeveless shirts.  </p>
<p>Just in case.  </p>
<p>But coincidentally.  Of course.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Near the end of his term of service, Donghun starts to do research in earnest. </p>
<p>He researches sites all over Korea, but ultimately, he’s mostly interested in one location, relatively near Seoul: Gapyeong.  </p>
<p>He stands on the shore of Cheongpyeong Lake with Sehyoon, who’s driven him there on a weekend of leave.  He looks across the sparkling blue water, surrounded by verdant hills, and knows: this is it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The property Donghun purchases is a little run-down, but it’s so spacious – and located in such a scenic location – that he can’t turn it down. </p>
<p>Never one to require a huge circle of friends, Donghun is nevertheless relieved to befriend a few Gapyeong residents, who enthusiastically help him renovate the place.  He insists on paying them for their efforts, feeling an immense sense of relief that the money he initially felt so gross receiving is benefiting his new community.  </p>
<p>And he’s fairly certain that this will be his permanent community.  He’s moved quite enough in the last several years, really.</p>
<p>His old hotel buddy Taehoon, now Assistant Head of Security, finds out about the project through Byeongkwan.  He asks whether Donghun would like his assistance as well, and Donghun is delighted to accept.  </p>
<p>An even bigger surprise greets Donghun the first time Taehoon drops by, to help demolish inner walls in the main building.  Taehoon brings his now-fiancée Miyoung with him, and Donghun sees firsthand how skilled his old room-service colleague is with a sledgehammer.  Apparently she’s got a tiny bit of pent-up hotel rage to release on the old, splintering interiors. </p>
<p>He reminds himself to avoid any preconceptions about female and male relative strengths and makes sure to steer clear of Miyoung’s powerful aim. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The three of them sit on a hillock, taking a break and eating fried chicken to accompany their chilled beers. </p>
<p>“What are you going to do with that building over there?” asks Taehoon, pointing at a smaller, slightly newer structure on the lot. </p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” says Donghun.  “It’s both more solidly and recently built, so it’s in much better condition than the main building. I had this idea to maybe rent it out as an art studio or something.  But they didn’t put in nearly enough windows for that; what kind of artist wants a space with next to no light?” </p>
<p>Taehoon and Miyoung nod in sympathy. </p>
<p>“And of course, the lack of light makes it really hard to sell as a guest cottage for the bed and breakfast, despite the fact that it’s actually roomier on the inside than it looks.  It’s got several small rooms, including a nice, though old-fashioned, bathroom.” </p>
<p>“Well, it sounds like it has some potential,” says Miyoung.  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” </p>
<p>They raise their beer bottles at this. </p>
<p>Donghun realizes that his ongoing therapy <em>must</em> be helping, because the thought of this free-floating, indeterminate potential (for a whole building!) is exciting, rather than terrifying. </p>
<p>He mentally gives himself – and his therapists, both past and present – another toast before taking his next sip of beer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Overlooking the distant dots of families and friends waterskiing on the lake, Donghun remembers sitting next to Byeongkwan at Christmas, watching a family across the street. </p>
<p>He’d told Byeongkwan then that he hoped his life would never be that domestic. </p>
<p><em>But now…?</em> </p>
<p>Well, maybe everything is negotiable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun hires a local decorator to put together the publicly accessible interiors; her vision comes to life in the form of soothing neutrals, with fun pops of green and purple – Donghun’s favorite color. </p>
<p>Above the fireplace mantel, Donghun sets a small printed photograph in a simple wooden frame: Byeongkwan, Sehyoon, and himself, bathed in the peachy-golden glow of a setting sun, in the mountains of Georgia. </p>
<p>He’s never felt more at home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun hosts a relatively tame get-together to celebrate the grand opening of his bed and breakfast overlooking the lake. </p>
<p>Friends both old and new admire the views from the outdoor areas, as well as the refurbished main building.  </p>
<p>Sehyoon waits until only he, Byeongkwan, and the proud new owner are left, then reaches inside a pocket of his messenger bag. </p>
<p>“When I got this, I wasn’t 100% sure what I was going to do with it,” he says, holding his hands tightly over whatever he extracted from the bag.  “And then as soon as Donghun got back to Korea, I knew what I had to do.” </p>
<p>Donghun and Byeongkwan exchange looks; it seems not even Sehyoon’s boyfriend has any idea what he’s talking about. </p>
<p>“Okay, close your eyes and hold out a hand,” commands Sehyoon.  Donghun obeys the instruction.  </p>
<p>“No, Kwannie!  Hand open, palm up!” Sehyoon’s voice tells Byeongkwan. “Better.  Okay.” </p>
<p>Donghun feels something very small (though hefty for its tiny size) pressed into his palm. </p>
<p>“Okay, you can look.” </p>
<p>Donghun sees an unbelievably tiny, perfectly formed, golden swan in his hand.  He looks to Sehyoon for an explanation, as does Byeongkwan, who is holding a tiny golden swan of his own. </p>
<p>Sehyoon holds a third miniature swan in his own hand.  “I know you’re not at The Pearl Odette anymore, Donghun, and honestly?  I hope to not be there much longer myself.  But it’s the place where I met both of you, and I want to have you both in my life forever, though… in different ways.  I thought these could be a reminder of our friendship.” </p>
<p>Donghun’s breath catches as he smiles.  “That’s almost painfully sweet.  Wait, did you have these made from the nugget of gold you bought in Dahlonega?” </p>
<p>“You knew about this?’ Byeongkwan laughs.  “Why am I the last to know?” </p>
<p>“No, no!” says Donghun.  “I thought he was going to, like, propose to you – but it did seem like kind of too much gold for just one little ring.” </p>
<p>Sehyoon grins.  “I didn’t have them made.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan’s eyes widen, but Donghun doesn’t understand. </p>
<p>“I made them myself.” </p>
<p>Donghun gawps at the tiny swan in his palm.  It’s an absolute masterpiece.  “You made these… by <em>hand?!</em>” </p>
<p>“Yup, sure did.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It might be the first time that Byeongkwan has ever seen Donghun tear up, but then the reverse is true, as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Learning to run a bed and breakfast on his own isn’t without its hiccups, but Donghun loves almost every second of the process.  It’s a perfect fit: a way for him to use his hospitality experience and meet new people while still exercising his self-reliance in a healthy way.  </p>
<p>He might occasionally be snarky to people, but only when they deserve it – or if he clocks that they’ll find it funny, giving as good as they get.   </p>
<p>A man’s gotta stay a <em>little</em> savage, surely. </p>
<p>And it’s a fun change from the world of ultraluxury hotels, where (Donghun recalls with horror) it almost felt like each department had carved out its own shifts for crying in the stairwell, from stress. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the all-consuming mania of ensuring that the public-fronting spaces look beautiful and inviting, Donghun’s own private quarters have gone a bit neglected.  His bedroom is especially sparse – flat-pack furniture, unadorned walls.  It’s a good thing he’s only ever in his room to sleep, really.</p>
<p>Donghun lies awake in bed, some nights, listening to the building settling around him.  He feels an aching for companionship – something more substantial than the visits with his new local friends, and something more frequent than the occasional trips Byeongkwan and Sehyoon make to his idyllic haven. </p>
<p>And honestly… sometimes he’s just really goddamn sexually frustrated. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once Donghun feels like he’s got the bed and breakfast business under control, he places an ad online, fishing to see whether there’s any interest in renting out the small, solid building curiously lacking in windows. </p>
<p>Nothing comes of it at first, but eventually he receives a text. </p>
<p>
  <strong>unknown number</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Hello, is this the manager of the property for rent, overlooking Cheongpyeong Lake?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>It is.  I’m not taking reservations to show it, as of right now.  Just stop by any weekday between 11am and 4pm, and I’ll be happy to show you around.  Did you have any questions about the place?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>unknown number</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>No, the pictures were great, and your description is clear.  I think I just need to see it myself.  I’ll probably stop by sometime next week.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Sounds good.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>unknown number</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Okay, great.  Thank you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Donghun</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>No problem, see you then.</em>
</p>
<p>“My pleasure,” mutters Donghun at his phone, in English.  He chuckles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure enough, about a week later, the doorbell rings.  As soon as Donghun opens the door and says hello, the man on his doorstep starts chattering excitedly about the building. </p>
<p>It takes both of them a few seconds to register that they’ve met, the man’s voice petering out into nothing over the crisp lake air.</p>
<p>They stare at each other for several seconds before both smiling hesitantly.</p>
<p>Donghun purses his lips, unsure of the man’s name after all this time.  </p>
<p>“Kang Yuchan,” the younger man helpfully supplies, “But everybody just calls me Chan.” </p>
<p>“Chan-ssi!  Lee Donghun.  It’s… it’s good to see you again!”  </p>
<p>And it is.  Also a little awkward maybe, but Chan’s grin is genuine, and his enthusiasm for the building is real. </p>
<p>As Donghun is showing Chan around the property, Chan takes notes on a tablet.  “Don’t tell me that’s the same tablet…” jokes Donghun. </p>
<p>“No.  Sadly the other one was actually lost to a canal in Amsterdam.  I thought the local officials were going to slaughter me for littering – as if I had done it on purpose!” </p>
<p>“He was on tour in <em>Amsterdam?</em>” Donghun can’t resist asking. </p>
<p>“Well, no, actually,” says Chan.  “Paris and a few other European cities.  Amsterdam was sort of just a side trip, for fun.  We got some pretty great behind-the-scenes footage though – Junhee running screaming from a flock of pigeons, Junhee accidentally lost in the red light district and flushing deep burgundy… oh, it was a hoot.” </p>
<p>“Did he happen to think so, too?” </p>
<p>Chan cocks his head and looks at Donghun.  “Mostly, I think.  Eventually.”  He hesitates, chewing on his lip for a second.  “You still have his number?  It hasn’t changed.  He’s somehow managed to not have his number leak, these many years.  It’s basically a miracle, from what I know about it.  You could ask him yourself.” </p>
<p>Donghun shivers with embarrassment.  “I don’t know that he’d remember me.  I’m sure I’m no longer even in his phone.”</p>
<p>“You are.”  Chan keeps his voice light, but he sounds very confident in this answer.  He clears his throat.  “Besides, maybe if you text him ahead of time, it’ll be less weird when he comes here to see this space himself.”</p>
<p>Donghun stares at Chan. </p>
<p>“Why does he want to rent this building?” </p>
<p>“Recording space,” says Chan.  “But I’ll let him see it himself and decide then.”  His body language relaxes.  “Anywhere around here I can get a good late lunch?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, there’s a great little place just down the road.  Actually…” Donghun hesitates. “Would you like company?” </p>
<p>Chan blinks a bit, then nods.  “That’d be great.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lunch is delicious, and Chan is back to his usual high spirits once his belly is full. </p>
<p>Donghun is shocked that they mostly manage to avoid talking about Junhee. </p>
<p>Mostly, but not entirely.  Chan fills Donghun in on various details of the singer’s life.  Junhee has a dog now – a Chow Chow named Lion.  His time in the military has convinced him that he wants to back off touring and focus on more studio composition and production work.  He’s addicted to strawberry lattes lately. </p>
<p>Chan doesn’t mention anything about Junhee’s romantic life, and Donghun doesn’t ask. </p>
<p>By the time they say goodbye, Donghun remembers why he liked Chan in the first place. </p>
<p>He also remembers, in vivid detail, Junhee’s visit to Atlanta. </p>
<p>It’s been a couple of fairly calm years since his stomach last felt seasick from anxiety, but then it must be true: all good things come to an end.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The roller-coaster of nausea threatens to take over, and Donghun relies on everything he’s learned in years of therapy to keep from puking.  </p>
<p>Even then, he goes to bed early, pressing a lavender eye pillow to his face.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wakes up in the morning feeling silly.  Junhee probably won’t even show.  Why would he?  He probably won’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But a few days later, he does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only one more chapter to go.  Are we ready??? </p>
<p>[I'm not ready.]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is not short; grab your favorite beverage and get cozy!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone once pointed out that everything sounds nice 'n' important if you preface it with "And so, it has come to this." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <strong>And so, it has come to this:</strong></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donghun is checking in a young couple from Seoul when Junhee walks through the front door.  The singer stands quietly by the entrance, waiting for the bed and breakfast owner to finish with his guests.  He’s wearing slouchy jeans, a black graphic tee, and wire-rimmed glasses – nothing flashy, but he still exudes a certain casual, rockstar vibe.</p>
<p>Donghun attempts to focus on the task at hand, making small talk with the couple.  </p>
<p>Oh, they’re from Seongdong District?  Ah, they’ll appreciate the break from the city, here in the fresh air.  They’ll be in room 3 this weekend; it’s charming, with a balcony overlooking the lake.  Just up the stairs and on their right.  If they require anything at all, they can call or text the number on this card.  Breakfast is served from 8 until 10 each morning – nothing fancy, but there’s also a list of other local dining options in the room.  Would they like assistance with their bags?  No?  Very well.  <em>Welcome to The Lakeside Peach.</em></p>
<p>They thank him and turn from the small check-in desk to take their bags.  The young lady’s eyes catch on Junhee, and she hesitates.  She steps forward and asks, “Are you Park Junhee?  The singer?” </p>
<p>He smiles.  “No, but I get that a lot.”</p>
<p>She shrugs and looks mildly disappointed, but then quickly gets over it, incident already forgotten as she joins her companion to head happily up the stairs. </p>
<p>Donghun and Junhee don’t speak as the couple climbs up the staircase.  Junhee waits for the distant, muffled click of the door closing behind them, then walks across the floor to the small desk. </p>
<p>Donghun shakes his head in mock sadness.  “I’m gonna have to change your name in my phone.  That was the most bald-faced lie I’ve seen in quite some time.” </p>
<p>Junhee echoes his body language with a slight head shake of his own.  “You probably should have changed it a long time ago.” </p>
<p>A freak thought enters Donghun’s mind.  “I guess I’m supposed to ask you how you are, and then we have a mildly awkward but mostly polite few minutes of chit-chat.  But something about you being on the other side of a check-in desk, talking about your phone… I have a random question, and if I don’t ask this now, I will forget for another… how many years?! A lot.”</p>
<p>Junhee runs a hand through his hair, face open and questioning. </p>
<p>“What did you save my name as, in your phone?”</p>
<p>Junhee’s laugh is golden and clear.  “Show me around this damn building you’ve listed, okay?  I’ll tell you by the time I leave today.  I promise.  Remind me.” </p>
<p>Donghun sighs – but smiles and steps out from behind the desk.  “I can’t believe you’re <em>still</em> gonna keep me hanging on this.”  He chuckles.  “I also can’t believe you want to rent my outbuilding.  What the hell, Junhee.” </p>
<p>The singer follows Donghun out the door.  “Well, if Chan’s right, the space sounds like everything I want in a recording space – something secluded enough for true privacy, but not impossibly far from Seoul, if I do have business commitments in the city.  Cozy but not claustrophobic, with lots of window-free walls to hang sound insulation… Yeah, it sounds ideal.”</p>
<p>“Proprietor aside?” Donghun opens the gate to the back garden, waits for Junhee to step through before closing it behind them.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be here if I were that easily scared of him.”</p>
<p>Donghun tosses his keyring lightly in the air and catches it again smoothly, as he leads them away from the main building.  They walk down a stone path through the shaded garden, slightly downhill.  The views open up past a patch of trees, revealing Cheongpyeong Lake below, glittering and turquoise.  The weather is cooperating today, and the entire tableau looks like something from a retouched postcard. </p>
<p>Junhee stops short on the path with a sharp intake of breath, looking out over the vista, and Donghun stands a little lower on the hill, watching him.  Junhee’s a little older than he once was – they both are – but the singer’s beauty is unfaded.  Rather, some of the youthful sharpness has settled into a warmer, golden softness.  His features are still marked, masculine; there’s no disguising his remarkable bone structure.  But the cut-glass nature of his cheekbones looks a little gentler, somehow, the jawline a touch more approachable. </p>
<p>Junhee turns and sees Donghun staring at him.  He smiles – a touch bashfully, maybe – but he doesn’t comment, simply stepping closer again to Donghun, indicating his readiness to continue their walk to the outbuilding. </p>
<p>Donghun manages to keep his tour of the building professional and to-the-point.  There are three small rooms, in addition to a tidy bathroom. </p>
<p>Junhee’s eyes widen further with every step he takes.  “The sloped ceilings here are perfect,” he tells Donghun. </p>
<p>“Really?  You like them?”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s not so much about what I like, aesthetically.  For boring, sound production-related reasons I won’t get into now, having walls or ceilings that are not parallel to each other is a huge help.  I would put studio monitors here…” Junhee indicates one area of the room.  “Bass traps there…” He points at the corners, then hesitates.  “Would I be able to bring a dog here? He’s very chilled out, acts more like a living body pillow than anything else.” </p>
<p>Donghun shrugs.  “As long as he isn’t approaching guests, I have no objections.  I can’t guarantee that they would all be comfortable with dogs.” </p>
<p>“That’s totally reasonable.” </p>
<p>They stand there in silence for a moment before Donghun speaks.  “Would you want to stay here sometimes?  Overnight, I mean.  It’s a fairly long commute from Seoul, if you intend to come and go frequently.  If you need all the rooms in this building for music production, you could just stay in one of the guest rooms in the main building.  I can give you a break on the rate, if you want to reserve one indefinitely, to make sure you’ve got a room for any overnight stays.”  </p>
<p>Junhee considers this, then nods slowly.  “That would actually be perfect.” </p>
<p>They exit the building, and Donghun locks the door behind them.  Junhee walks to a spot on the hill where he can best take in the view, and the wind ruffles his hair. </p>
<p>He turns back toward Donghun.  “Are we really doing this?” </p>
<p>“‘We,’ nothing!  I live here, Junhee.  This is already my life.  Are <em>you</em> really doing this?” </p>
<p>Junhee looks back out over the hills and lake, water now a slightly deeper sapphire, shadows touching the deep green hills on the other side of the shore.  “Yeah, I think I am.” </p>
<p>Back at the main building, Junhee chooses a room on the ground floor, so that his dog can have easier access to the outdoors.  Donghun tries to avoid thinking about how his own bedroom is located directly above Junhee’s. </p>
<p>Donghun gives him several keys – the front door to the main building, Junhee’s own room, and the studio building.  It feels natural; no nausea whatsoever.  He congratulates himself mentally on keeping things professional.</p>
<p>It’s not until after he’s waved Junhee goodbye and seen the singer’s surprisingly boring car fade to a dim dot that Donghun realizes he forgot to follow up on his earlier question, about his name in Junhee’s phone contacts.  <em>Damn.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shock in Byeongkwan’s voice is clear, even through the phone.  “You sure about this, hyung?” </p>
<p>“I’m telling you, it’s fine.  We’ve both moved on.  It was years ago.” </p>
<p>“Okayyyy.  Sehni is never going to believe this.  I mean, what are the chances?” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs lightly.  “Don’t I fucking know it.  It’s a small world.  But I mean… suddenly, his manager was here, and then Junhee showed up, and just… yeah.  Here we are.  But it’s gonna be fine.  I’ve moved on.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, you keep saying that.”  Byeongkwan sounds doubtful.  “Just don’t break his heart again, okay?” </p>
<p>Donghun feels certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he can answer that one honestly.  “I won’t.”  He suddenly thinks of something.  “Kwannie?” </p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“You know how Junhee wrote you letters when you were enlisted?  When did that stop?” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan goes silent for so long that Donghun looks at his phone screen to ensure the call hasn’t dropped.  “He wrote me a letter from Atlanta, hyung, on tiny little pieces of hotel paper.  He said he was planning on confessing, and if I didn’t hear from him again, it would be because it didn’t go well.  Said he was trying to think of his own self-preservation or something.  I guess in his mind I was always going to be your friend before anything else.  It would be too painful to keep up the correspondence.” </p>
<p>“When I told you about our hook-up…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I played dumb.  What could I possibly have said that wouldn’t make it worse?  I love you, Donghun, but what was I supposed to do?” </p>
<p>“It’s fine.” Donghun exhales.  “You did the right thing.  Thank you, Kwan-ah.” </p>
<p>Byeongkwan is right, of course.  He couldn’t have worked Donghun through his issues – not because of enlistment, not because of being distracted by Sehyoon, but because the issues have always been Donghun’s and Donghun’s alone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun ends the phone call feeling, to his surprise, a low, simmering pride in himself.  He <em>has</em> sorted out so many of his own issues, and he feels no resentment toward Byeongkwan or anybody else for leaving him to do so on his own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes Junhee several weeks to outfit the studio space to his liking, and even then he says it’ll be a work in progress.  He comes and goes, sometimes lugging sound insulation, speakers, or other more mysterious items, like sheets of plexiglass.  Donghun occasionally helps him bring materials inside, but for the most part, Junhee seems intent on setting up the space himself.  </p>
<p>Junhee introduces Donghun to Lion, a fluffy dog with a blue tongue and a permanent smile.  Donghun had considered getting a cat at some point, but he has to admit that Lion is a lovely pet.  He could possibly be won over to dogs, after all. </p>
<p>During one quiet midweek, with no other guests in the bed and breakfast, Junhee asks Donghun for a favor.  </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry – and it’s okay if you can’t, but… he’s been cooped up alone all day, and I don’t want him in the studio with me.  I bumped into a box of loose nails, which are now all over the floor.  I don’t want him stepping on any of them.  Would you mind– ”</p>
<p>Before he can finish asking, Donghun has already accepted.  “Lion and I are going to have a great evening together.  Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>Donghun finds himself sitting on his living room floor, one arm wrapped around Lion, watching a romantic comedy.  “He’s going to ask her out,” he tells the dog.  Lion looks at him and back at the TV before lying down on the rug. “I quite agree.  She’s so boring and kind.  He should go for her hellion of a brother instead.  At least the brother’s funny, sometimes.” </p>
<p>“Are you imposing a gay agenda on my dog?” says Junhee’s voice in the doorway. </p>
<p>“Sure am!” says Donghun, pausing the movie.  “Start small, work your way up.  Today, fuzzy dogs with blue tongues.  Tomorrow, marriage equality for all of us, right here in Korea!”</p>
<p>Junhee lifts the bottle of wine he’s surreptitiously brought with him.  “You want to toast to that?  A small present, for taking care of this fluff-monster.” </p>
<p>Donghun blinks at the bottle.  “Sure!”  He thinks for a second.  “Want some food to go with it?  I haven’t made dinner yet; I can easily cook for two.  And this movie’s not really worth continuing, anyway.  The main character is about to make an annoyingly reasonable choice, instead of a deliciously bad one.”</p>
<p>“So I heard you telling my dog.”</p>
<p>Donghun reaches over to scratch behind Lion’s ears.  “Sorry, buddy.  Movie night’s over.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is one of my favorite Riojas,” says Junhee, pouring wine into their glasses.  “A little sweet but not sickly.  Kind of has a berry thing going on, I think because of all the garnacha in the blend.” </p>
<p>Donghun grins.  “When did you learn about wine?” </p>
<p>“What?” Junhee looks confused, but then Donghun sees the moment it clicks. “God… didn’t we drink wine out of mugs, one time?” </p>
<p>“We did,” confirms Donghun.  “I don’t think I really understood that I should be embarrassed about that, yet.  You were just a hot guy around my age, not some global phenomenon.”  He sets the dinner plates on the table.</p>
<p>Junhee smiles.  “Well, I’m doing my best to move out of the public eye, anyway.  I’m not saying I’m not grateful for the chances I’ve had, and I know I’ll have to make public appearances sometimes, but… I’m just over the red carpet thing, the photographer thing, the fan-dodging thing.” </p>
<p>Donghun has seen plenty of celebrities struggling with the pressures of being a public figure, and he suspects he knows exactly what Junhee means.  He nods thoughtfully.</p>
<p>The singer continues, “When I was in England on tour, I had the chance to make a detour to one musician’s isolated studio, surrounded by rain, heather, sheep, and nothing else.  It felt so wild and free!  Foreboding and lonely and… kind of magical?  Anyway, it stuck with me.  Just… the possibility to lead a truly private life and still create music, once you’ve got enough of a fanbase and financial cushion.” </p>
<p>Donghun’s feeling shameless, sipping the Rioja.  “And now you’ve got the financial cushion?” </p>
<p>Junhee grins, poking at his food.  “I’m not like… ‘buy a city block’ wealthy.  But I’m doing okay.  I still accepted the discounted, long-term rate on a room here, didn’t I?  In exchange for the low, low price of you getting to snuggle my dog.” </p>
<p>“Did I ever tell you I fucked one of my landlords for a year, to pay a slightly lower rent?” </p>
<p>“You most certainly did not,” says Junhee.  He looks surprised but not scandalized.  “Was that before, after, or during…?”  </p>
<p>“Oh, well before.  Right after I left my parents’ home.” </p>
<p>Junhee considers this as they eat.  “Maybe it’s not my place to ask, since I know you’ve never had the best relationship with them, but how are they?  Your parents, I mean.” </p>
<p>Donghun sets down his spoon and sighs.  “Are you happy to get into the real stuff, the not-so-pretty stuff?  Or do we want to keep this lighthearted?” </p>
<p>“I’m happy to listen if you want to talk about it.  And if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, also.  I’ll be around if you change your mind.” </p>
<p>Donghun thinks before responding.  “Then… yeah.  I’m not ready to talk about it.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” says Junhee.  “Not a problem at all.” </p>
<p>Donghun feels a sparkle flicker behind his eyes.  “But I do have a question, and you absolutely, 100% are not allowed to run from it.  No more, Junhee!” </p>
<p>“Umm, way to present whatever you’re about to ask in the most terrifying way possible.”  Junhee’s face is an equal mixture of frightened and amused, the smile wide but his expressive eyes huge. </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice!  Park Junhee. <em>What</em> is my contact name in your phone?” </p>
<p>Junhee’s face transforms, relief sweeping his features – quickly followed by a faint pink creeping into his cheeks.  He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, taps over to the contacts, and shows Donghun. </p>
<p><strong>Left 11 Children Behind</strong> </p>
<p>“What?!” Donghun is slack-jawed. </p>
<p>“I just… the first night we really ever talked… Ugh, it seems a lifetime ago, now.  But I made a dumb joke about my husband leaving me to raise our 11 children on my own, and you just rolled with it, like it was totally normal – and I was smitten.  So then a year later, when I asked you out… well, if anybody in my agency was ever snooping in my phone, I didn’t want them to see <em><strong>Future Fantasy Husband</strong></em> in my contacts, you know?” </p>
<p>The giggles sweeping Donghun prevent him from answering properly, but he nods. </p>
<p>“Anyway,” Junhee looks a little sheepish, “I knew what it meant.  It was never for anybody else’s eyes.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” says Donghun.  “I have to ask.  So… you’ve obviously dated other people since then.” <em>Including Kang Mindeulle,</em> he adds in his head. </p>
<p>“Yeah.” </p>
<p>“Did any of them ever see or question this contact?” </p>
<p>Junhee takes a sip of wine before answering.  “You know, the only person I’ve ever dated who would have gone through my phone was the very first one I loved.” </p>
<p>“The <em>Someone You Loved</em> ex?” asks Donghun.  “God, maybe I shouldn’t call her that.” </p>
<p>“No, I mean… you’re totally right.  That’s the one.  She was the epitome of that thing people talk about, where if someone is constantly accusing you of cheating or wanting to leave, they’re probably either cheating or wanting to leave, themselves.  So, long story short, your identity as Mr. Left 11 Children Behind is safe from everybody.” He pauses.  “Well, except Channie.” </p>
<p>Donghun remembers how confidently Chan had confirmed that Junhee still had his number.  “He’s always been very dedicated to you, right?  It’s amazing you’re still working with him even after your military service.”  He starts stacking their used plates and utensils.</p>
<p>“Yeah, once you find somebody you click with professionally like that, you don’t let them go.  Some of the older idol groups have had the same manager by their side for over a decade.” </p>
<p>Donghun keeps talking as he stands up to clear the table.  “Given that he’s a bit protective of you, I’m surprised he even suggested this place to you, when I’m the one running the property.” </p>
<p>Junhee follows him to the kitchen, carrying the remaining dinner debris.  “He’s never disliked you, exactly; he’s just… protective, as you say.  But okay, what was it, Truth Enthusiast Park Junhee?  Fine, Truth Enthusiast makes a comeback, right here tonight.” </p>
<p>Donghun looks at him questioningly, still holding a stack of dinner plates and bowls. </p>
<p>“No,” says Junhee, “Put that down, first.” </p>
<p>“Okay, now it’s my turn to be freaked out.” But Donghun does as he’s told and sets down the dishes.</p>
<p>“Well… you must have thought it was some super far-fetched, crazy coincidence that I happened to want to rent a building on your property.” </p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t respond, just leans back against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles go white. </p>
<p>“It is mostly a coincidence.  <em>Mostly.</em>  I was looking up ads for studio space to rent, and this ticked all of my boxes, at least in theory.  Well, there were a few different places that did.  But the name of your bed and breakfast – The Lakeside Peach – as well as one of the pictures on your property’s website tipped me off that it might be you running it.  I didn’t know that it actually would be you, I just… I thought it might be.  So I asked Chan to come check it out.  I didn’t tell him about my suspicions.” </p>
<p>“You sent him as a scout.” </p>
<p>“An unwitting scout,” confirms Junhee. </p>
<p>“Which picture on the website?” asks Donghun.  </p>
<p>“Right on the front page of your website, you have a little collage of close-ups of the décor.  And you have one picture of a tiny swan; it looks <em>just</em> like the silver swan logo of The Pearl Odette, but golden.  I should know, I’ve stayed in enough of them at this point.” </p>
<p>A thought occurs to Donghun.  “My friend Sehyoon actually made that.  You’re right that it’s a Pearl Odette reference; we both used to work there.  He’s been dating my best friend Byeongkwan for a few years now.” He clears his throat, thinking of the letters Junhee wrote to an enlisted man he barely knew, just because he was a connection to Donghun.  </p>
<p>Junhee looks at him questioningly, clearly unsure where this is going.</p>
<p>Donghun smiles a bit sheepishly.  “This is going to sound ridiculous, but… Sehyoon is a big fan of yours.  I think you two actually met once, but it would have been a long time ago.  I’m guessing you don’t remember him.” </p>
<p>“I don’t, sorry.” </p>
<p>“No worries.  Anyway… could I, like, buy a signed album or something from you?  To give him as a gift?” </p>
<p>Junhee laughs so hard he tips forward slightly – though it could also be the Rioja talking. He grips Donghun’s forearm for stability before righting himself.  “Fool.  I’ll happily give you a few, for free.” </p>
<p>“Thank you!” Donghun smiles at him, then feels a touch of hesitancy – something similar to bashfulness – creep across him.  </p>
<p>They stand in the kitchen quietly as Donghun turns around to load the dishwasher.  He closes the door, presses two buttons, and the dishwasher hums softly to life. </p>
<p>“Thank you for the wine,” he tells Junhee. </p>
<p>“Any time.  Thank you for dinner, and for the company.” </p>
<p>Donghun represses a yawn, suddenly tired after an evening of ebullience.  “We should do this again sometime.”  </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Junhee nods.  “Let’s.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun wonders, in the shower, whether he’s going to be able to sleep.  He and Junhee covered a lot of ground in one dinner. </p>
<p>But his stomach stays calm; his mind stays calm; his heart stays calm. </p>
<p>He writes in his journal before turning off the light, and he’s asleep almost instantly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun sleeps deeply and dreamlessly throughout the night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Junhee begins to spend more time in his new studio space, he and Donghun begin to eat meals together more regularly. </p>
<p>Their conversations are free-flowing and organic; sometimes they discuss their daily routines and schedules, sometimes they discuss trickier topics closer to the heart, and sometimes they barely talk at all, recharging in each other’s comfortable silences. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Toward the end of summer, Junhee helps Donghun move a table onto a flat patch of grass in the garden.  They’ve decided to have a late lunch in the last of the summer sun.  Although Donghun is in shorts and a sleeveless tee, he’s sweating and exhausted by the time they wrangle the table into place. </p>
<p>He notes, feeling something maybe not exactly neutral, that Junhee is also glistening in sweat, under the combined effects of the physical effort and summer sun. </p>
<p>“You want to just go jump in the lake, before lunch?” he asks Junhee.  “There’s a literal lake right there.” </p>
<p>“But wouldn’t we be trespassing on the property of whoever’s down lower on this hill, to get there?” </p>
<p>“Ummm.  Well, technically it’s still part of this property.  I just have the more landscaped, guest-friendly areas fenced off.” Donghun points past Junhee.  “But there’s a path that runs from that gate all the way down to the lake itself.” </p>
<p>Junhee can’t hide his confusion.  “Donghun… not to be that asshole, but… how the fuck did you afford this place?  Please tell me you’re not just mortgaged up to your eyeballs.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  “I was wondering when you were going to ask me that, actually.  Come on, let’s go swimming and I’ll tell you, okay?” </p>
<p>“I don’t have swimming trunks with me.” </p>
<p>“Who gives a shit?  Wear the shorts you’ve got on.  You’ve got a change of clothes for after, right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Of course he does.  Donghun has noticed how much more time Junhee’s been spending in Gapyeong; it makes sense that he must be keeping more clothing and essentials on site, also. </p>
<p>“Okay, then.”  Donghun jogs over to the gate.  “Let’s go.  Wait, where’s Lion?” </p>
<p>“Inside, in the air conditioning.  Lazy ass.” </p>
<p>“Just like his daddy…” </p>
<p>“Dickwad!” retorts Junhee, finally making a move to catch up with Donghun. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They strip their shirts and shoes off and float in Cheongpyeong Lake in their shorts, the cool water blissfully refreshing.</p>
<p>“Can you believe they turn this lake into the site of a winter festival?” asks Donghun.  “There’s ice fishing and everything.” </p>
<p>“No,” says Junhee.  “I mean, I believe what you’re telling me; it’s just that my half-charbroiled brain refuses to accept it as reality.” </p>
<p>Donghun laughs.  They float, happy and quiet, until Donghun’s stomach grumbles, reminding him that it was already going to be a late lunch.  </p>
<p>“Alright, Junhee.  The price has been paid.  Let’s head back in and I’ll tell you about it while we walk.” </p>
<p>The singer laughs. “You make it sound like there was some sort of blood contract!  Am I about to pay with my life?” </p>
<p>Donghun grimaces.  “No, but I’ll bet you’ll be cringing in about 60 seconds.” </p>
<p>Junhee raises his eyebrows but doesn’t answer.</p>
<p>They gather up their shirts and shoes and begin to walk, barefoot, back toward the main building.  </p>
<p>“My parents were assholes,” says Donghun.  “And then they died in a car crash, leaving all the proceeds from their shady-ass business transactions, accumulated over decades, to me – the son they never once indicated they loved or even liked.” </p>
<p>Junhee exhales softly.  “Wow.” </p>
<p>“Yeah.  I mean, legally, I would get 50% of everything, even if they had designated other inheritors.  But their will explicitly leaves everything to me, no questions asked, no explanations given.” </p>
<p>Junhee nods and lets Donghun continue talking as they pick their way back up the steep hill. </p>
<p>“I honestly think they were fucking with me.  They knew I would wonder why, forever, and it’s not like they supported charitable causes anyway.  I think they knew, since I never accepted a single penny from them while they were alive, that this would just piss me off.” </p>
<p>He pauses to open the gate back into the garden. </p>
<p>“I think I’m mostly okay about it, though.  Joke’s on them.  For a variety of reasons, I’m doing a lot better than they could ever have imagined.”  He takes a deep breath and looks Junhee right in the eyes.  “My mental health hasn’t always been great.  But therapy has helped a lot.  I don’t want to say that everything is better, and suddenly all my issues are gone.  But… I’m okay, you know?” </p>
<p>Junhee’s eyes are calm, quietly searching Donghun’s face for – something.  “I’m proud of you, Donghun.  I’ve kinda had some shit to work through as well.  Honestly, I probably should have had more professional assistance than I did.” </p>
<p>They’re quiet the rest of the way back to the building before splitting up to get showered and changed in their respective rooms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun tries hard not to think about Junhee showering in the bathroom just below his.  He is unsuccessful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byeongkwan and Sehyoon visit on a night that Junhee is staying at The Lakeside Peach – though by this point, Junhee is in Gapyeong more than he is in Seoul, anyway.  </p>
<p>Donghun cooks dinner for the four of them. </p>
<p>Sehyoon keeps his cool about the signed albums, only blushing slightly.  Within minutes, Junhee and his other friends are comfortable and relaxed around each other. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun can’t trace its origin exactly, but an image flashes ever-so-briefly across his mind – a silly fantasy of coupledom, going to dinner parties with other couples, riding Ferris wheels, going on walks together on dark winter nights – all with Junhee on his arm. </p>
<p>He shakes his head, tries to focus on Byeongkwan’s joke about Harley Quinn, something or other.  He’s not sure, really; his head’s still in the clouds – but he laughs anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The weather starts to turn, chilly mists rising up the hillside each morning.  Donghun assumes Junhee is going to start spending more time in Seoul; most vacationers come to Gapyeong in the summer, taking advantage of the water sports and hiking trails.  They then flee as soon as the weather becomes colder, only to return (hopefully) the following summer.</p>
<p>Thus, he’s not surprised one morning, when Junhee asks him, “Hey, do you have a second?  I wanted to talk about the room I’ve been renting.”</p>
<p>“Sure!  Let’s sit over here by the fireplace.  It’s not quite cold enough to light a fire in it yet, but we can pretend, right?  Just, like, imagine that everything is cozy and wonderful.” </p>
<p>Junhee gives Donghun a strange look as they sit on the sofa.  “Everything <em>is</em> cozy and wonderful.” </p>
<p>Donghun blinks at that.  “Thank you.” </p>
<p>“Would it be weird if I rented another room from you?” asks Junhee, all in a rush.  “Would that weird you out?” </p>
<p>“What?  I mean, no… but why?” </p>
<p>Junhee cracks the upper part of his spine.  “I’m thinking of selling my apartment in Seoul.  That effectively means I’d be moving in here, and although you offered me a long-term room, this would be… well, I can see why it might make you uncomfortable.  Plus, it would mean Lion lives here full-time, too.” </p>
<p>Donghun searches Junhee’s face for signs he’s kidding.  “You’re serious?” </p>
<p>“I’m serious.” </p>
<p>Donghun thinks about it for a second, then says, “I have two rooms to check out this morning.  Can you give me until after they’re gone, and we can talk about it, then?  Sometime this afternoon?  We could just meet back here at 3 o’clock…” </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, of course,” agrees Junhee.  “3 o’clock.”</p>
<p>“Did you want any tea?” asks Donghun, as they stand up from the sofa.  “I’m about to put the kettle on.”  </p>
<p>The man checking out of room 5 overhears this as he lugs his duffel bag down the stairs.  “You two are a cute couple,” he grunts, hoisting the bag higher on his shoulder.</p>
<p>Donghun and Junhee exchange a wide-eyed glance.  Before Donghun can speak, Junhee’s voice says, “Thank you.” </p>
<p>As the man shuffles to the check-in desk, Junhee slips away to his music studio. Donghun checks the man out of room 5 without mentioning the exchange.</p>
<p>Donghun decides, waiting for the kettle to boil, not to address Junhee’s “thank you” – figuring it must be like when Junhee told the woman he was not, in fact, Park Junhee: an easy little lie told only to avoid a long discussion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the housekeeper lets him know that both checked-out rooms are clean, Donghun double-checks the rooms, then glances at the time: not yet noon.  He still has a few hours before meeting Junhee to talk about any changes to the current arrangement.</p>
<p>Donghun goes back to his small private wing of the building, sits down at his flimsy desk, and pulls out a drawer.  He removes an envelope from the drawer, and from this he extracts many small pieces of hotel letterpad paper, each covered in dense, slightly upward-tilted handwriting. </p>
<p>He reads the letter from start to finish for the second time ever, and this time he doesn’t feel the urge to vomit.  He places his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on his joined hands, and arrives at a decision. </p>
<p><em>Fucking hell.</em>  Life is hard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Being honest with himself is even harder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Junhee seems surprised that Donghun wants to sit on the floor, but what Donghun really wants at the moment is to keep his arms wrapped around Lion – who isn’t allowed on the sofa.  So, sitting on the floor it is. </p>
<p>Donghun clears his throat.  “So, I have some basic logistical questions about how this would work… like, does The Lakeside Peach become your legal address, and what about your furniture and stuff.  But all of that, absolutely all of it, is a moot point if you’re not okay with what I’m about to tell you.” </p>
<p>Junhee nods, body language screaming of nervousness.  Well, the man’s always had the absolute worst poker face.</p>
<p>Donghun continues, “It’s only right that you should know this before you decide to uproot your life and move in here.  I spent the better part of two hours trying to come up with a less childish way to put this, but I failed.  Park Junhee, I have a crush on you.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s mouth drops open, flabbergasted.  </p>
<p>The difficult part over, Donghun’s inner sass fights for recognition.  “A couple of years ago, I saw you on that variety show with Kang Mindeulle.  You said you never make the first move – that you have too many reservations about entering relationships.  Well, clearly I am happy to take the lead.”  He intends for it to sound funny, but his snark just sounds bizarre to himself, now that he’s said it aloud.</p>
<p>Junhee’s face is twisted into several competing emotions, as if he were battling for control over his own body with some sort of alien or bodysnatching demon.  He finally seems to snap out of it and flops down onto the rug, laughing. </p>
<p>“This is too weird,” Junhee finally wheezes.  </p>
<p>Donghun doesn’t respond, and eventually Junhee’s wheezes fade.  “You know, Donghun… I spent years and years daydreaming of various scenarios in which you’d tell me you wanted to be with me.  I would graciously accept your confession, never – or at least rarely – rubbing in your face that I was right all along, that we were meant to be together.”  He sits up, looking dazed.</p>
<p>Donghun hugs Lion closer and exhales a shaky breath.  “Do I hear a ‘But…’ coming?” </p>
<p>Junhee’s face contorts a bit as he looks at Donghun.  “You know what?  No.  No, I don’t think you do.  Just now, just this moment, I wanted to play hard to get.  I wanted you to suffer and ache and pine, at least a little bit, the way I did for years.” He locks eyes with Donghun.  “But… don’t you think we’ve both suffered enough?” </p>
<p>Donghun wants to say something witty.  Something charming.  Something adult and well-adjusted.  </p>
<p>What he says is, “So do you, like, have a crush on me too?” </p>
<p>Junhee laughs almost pityingly.  “Unhand my dog, you psycho.”   Donghun releases his viselike grip from around Lion’s neck.  Junhee shoves his confused dog aside, then tackles Donghun’s shoulders to the rug.  “I do not have a crush on you.” </p>
<p>“No…?” </p>
<p>“I have never stopped loving you.  I have never stopped being in love with you, you absolute disaster of a human.  And if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear on all that is holy that– ” </p>
<p>But Donghun never finds out what might happen, as he kisses Junhee resolutely, pulling the singer’s face down to meet his own, until all he can taste is the singer’s honey-sweet mouth, and all he can see is the starry sky of his own oxygen-deprived senses. </p>
<p>Just when he thinks he might actually die here, on this rug, crushed under a ballad singer, smooshed between a Chow Chow and a sofa, Junhee lifts his head, and they gasp for air. </p>
<p>“What if I lied?” asks Donghun.  </p>
<p>“What?” Junhee looks as hazy as Donghun feels. </p>
<p>“What if I lied?  About having a crush on you.” </p>
<p>“Boy, just keep faking it like you’re doing right now and ask me again whether I give a single fuck.”  Junhee’s sass is at unprecedented levels, and Donghun loves it.  No – he doesn’t love <em>it,</em> he loves… </p>
<p>Junhee goes to kiss him again, but Donghun gently pushes his face back.  “No, Junhee, listen to me.  I was wrong.  I don’t have a crush on you.  I <em>love</em> you.  More than I love myself, more than anything or anybody, more than my friends, more than the lake, more than this building I tore down and rebuilt with my own hands.  I will never spend another second of my life doubting how much I love you, and I don’t want you to waste a single additional second doubting it, either.” </p>
<p>Junhee’s face softens, and Donghun memorizes this new configuration of his expressive mouth, adding it to a mental collection he didn’t realize until today that he had curated – a memorized catalog of every expression, every wrinkle, every motion and emotion Junhee carries on his face.</p>
<p>But just as quickly as it softened, Junhee’s face turns devilish.  In an instant, the corners of his eyes shift, catlike and predatory.  “Okay, cool.  Noted.  Let’s make out some more.” </p>
<p>So… they do, until Donghun’s limbs have gone numb, his brainwaves have turned to slush, and Lion is whining for attention on the other side of the rug. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Donghun says a small prayer of gratitude that he has no rooms due to check in today.  He’s not exactly in a state of mind to interact with the public.</p>
<p>Ordinary tasks for the rest of the day become absolutely, exquisitely extraordinary.  Junhee latches onto him so tightly that he can barely cook dinner, unable to pry himself free of the singer’s arms.  Doing the dishes becomes an exercise in patience, Donghun struggling for focus in the face of the thousands of kisses Junhee plants repeatedly and insistently onto his neck, behind his ear.  With each kiss, meridian lines transmit crackling fireworks up into Donghun’s skull and down into his surprisingly un-nauseated stomach.</p>
<p>Finally, Donghun gives up.  “Fuck it, I’m not doing anything productive the rest of the evening.  Go take Lion out for his last bedtime walk, and meet me upstairs.”  </p>
<p>Junhee’s expression is, of all things, a little puppylike.  He kisses Donghun on the lips with a surprisingly deft lightness, then disappears to carry out the order. </p>
<p>Donghun meets him at the door to his private wing with a question.  “Do you still own that beautiful vintage bed?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  You’re going to think I’m such a loser, but… I still don’t have that apartment fully furnished!  But yeah… yeah, I’ve got the bed.  Teak.”</p>
<p>Donghun takes Junhee’s hand and leads him inside.  “Good, because all of the furnishings in my personal wing of this building are horrible, cheap, flat-pack trash.  I intend to fuck you on and against every single bit of it until it collapses, and then we can move your beautiful bed in here.  Understood?” </p>
<p>“I hope that’s a promise,” says Junhee. </p>
<p>Donghun decides actions will speak louder than words in proving his commitment to this particular promise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Junhee wakes him up the next morning earlier than Donghun feels is strictly necessary.</p>
<p>“Why, Junheeeeee?” he whines.  “I’m too exhausted.  Let me sleep in – we have our entire lifetimes ahead of us.” </p>
<p>“If you’re sure,” says Junhee.  “But I know you like to go for runs in this weather.” </p>
<p>And suddenly Donghun is wide awake.  “You know my running habits?” </p>
<p>“I’ve been living under the same roof as a person I’m feverishly in love with.  Yes, I know his – I know <em>your</em> running habits.”</p>
<p>Donghun stares at Junhee’s sleepy eyes and pulls the singer back under the covers, cuddling him fiercely.  “I’m going to skip the run today.  But… wow, that was sweet.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>_____ </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes them a surprisingly short amount of time to settle into a new normal – a normal elevated from the previous state of affairs not simply by greater affection or declarations of love (although those are lovely also), but also by constant companionship and quiet, total trust. </p>
<p>The new normal also includes Junhee wandering about The Lakeside Peach in Donghun’s clothing, his inherently lean, rockstar frame swallowed by some of Donghun’s shabbier relics of his time in Atlanta. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Given their easy and continual intimacy, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Donghun when Junhee pulls him in by the waist, late one night, and asks whether he wants to see what Junhee gets up to in his music recording studio. </p>
<p>“Now?” asks Donghun. </p>
<p>“Why not?  We don’t have any check-ins this whole week.  We can stay up late.” </p>
<p><em>We.</em>  Donghun could cry.  And sometimes does, now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The weather has turned chilly enough that Donghun and Junhee fling long, puffy coats over their pajamas, mincing their way carefully downhill under the dark, star-glittered sky.  </p>
<p>Junhee pulls Donghun into the music studio, guides him to a swiveling office chair in front of his mixing desk, and asks, “Are you ready?” </p>
<p>Donghun isn’t sure what he’s meant to be ready for, so he simply nods. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Junhee hits PLAY, and the studio monitors transform into voice-boxes, a Greek chorus telling a first terrible, then wonderful – no, <em>perfect</em> – love story of two men, living and breathing and kissing and sleeping together on a hill by a lake,  wrapped in growing layers of warmth and comfort, their hearts beating in time with one another, the world finally, <em>finally</em> moderating its own tempo to match theirs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And finally… Donghun understands.</p>
<p>💕</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so indescribably much for the kudos, comments, + the lovely person who sent me a Twitter DM about fanfic writing; y’all are the reason I kept going with the project when A Thing Happened and I subsequently had a crisis of writing confidence.</p>
<p>Thank you to I. for beta-reading, around-the-clock emotional support, and being the best fic / K-pop friend ever.  Our writing styles are so very different – but every single suggestion you made improved this story.  </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/WeUsTessa">twt</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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